Archive of Our Own ^beta

 

The Swing of Things

by Minnie K.

THURSDAY

It was the insistent honking from under his bedroom window that finally prodded Kenneth Hutchinson out of his dazed state. He'd awoken some time ago, stretched out and as limp as a rag doll across the too-short bed. He usually was an early riser, but for the last half hour or so, just thinking about moving had sent slight waves of pain rolling across the back of his head. He'd just lain there, soaking up the little bit of warm, midday sun that slid through the grimy window and allowed himself to drift. He wasn't sure he was quite ready to face a new day, but the insistent blaring from the close-packed traffic forced him to face facts.

Hutch opened one eye, seeing only the blur of the off-white wall. He groaned, then paused, expecting the pounding in his head to worsen at the sound. When it didn't, he smiled slightly to himself in relief. This may just be one of the more survivable hang-overs I've had in a while, he decided. Not that there had been many in the past year, but then again, he wasn't getting any younger.

He lifted his head cautiously, moving very slowly so he wouldn't aggravate the hang over. He rolled over on the bed and stretched. Yep, he thought ruefully, rubbing the crick in his neck. Head still attached.

He glanced around him, but there wasn't much in the small, shabby room to wake up to. The furniture showed its age, having survived many occupants in the last few years. The dented, scratched headboard matched the beat up dresser and night stand. All the furniture in the apartment looked like Salvation Army specials, pitted, lopsided and just a bit warped. The off-white walls of Hutch's room were unadorned. The small potted plant in the window sill and short stack of books on his dresser didn't do much to help cheer up the place. Hutch didn't even notice the room anymore, it was just someplace he slept.

And I thought life as a cop could really suck, he groaned. At least it kept your attention. Kept your mind working. Not like this garbage we're doing now... The early morning party had been the first tie-on he and Dave Starsky had had in quite awhile. It hadn't been anything special. They'd both just been totally, horribly, bored, but were too broke for dating and their evening-shift hours made meeting girls and planning dates just that much harder. Instead, they'd decided to just stay home, splurge on pizza and beer and stay up for the early morning monster movie 'special' that Starsky had gotten his heart set on. What a life we lead, Hutch grimaced. Too broke to even get drunk properly. And what's worse, I'm even beginning to enjoy those stupid shows...

It had turned out to be just as well that they had planned to keep it quiet. His well-used LTD had developed another flat the day before and even the spare had been useless. Money was going to be a bit tight with a new retread on the car and their rent coming due. If they were careful with the groceries this time maybe, just maybe, they'd still have enough to last until payday tomorrow.

He carefully sat up in bed and tried to focus on the bedside clock. It was already 11:45 a.m. Damn, forgot to set the alarm! He didn't have to wonder if Starsky was up, as he could hear ragged snoring from across the tiny hallway.

Hell. Gotta get Starsky up too.

He moved a little faster, now that the pain in his head promised to stay minimal, and stretched over to grab his faded orange robe off the floor. Not wanting to move too fast, he just sat quietly for a moment, giving his body a chance to get used to being upright. His mind wandered back to their early morning silliness.

They had gotten off work at midnight, come straight home and had proceeded to devour an extra-large pizza. Sprawled on the couch, eating pizza, unmindful of the crumbs, they had watched the monster movie 'special' that had run for hours. They both had been in good moods, making up alternative lines to the horribly campy shows. Starsky had even managed to get to Hutch once or twice, making him snicker after a few particularly witty ad-libs.

It had been around 5:00 a.m. when Hutch realized he and Starsky were nicely smashed. But having kept up beer for beer, Hutch had just gotten slower and sleepy and Starsky had grown even more animated. So Hutch had just sat quietly on the couch and watched as Starsky dug out boxes of frost covered ice-cream leftovers out of the fridge and mostly empty cookie and cereal boxes. By the time he got the blender out, Starsky had been belting out some show-tune that Hutch couldn't even begin to identify.

Hutch must have dozed off at some point, because the next thing he knew he was pulling his head up from the back of the couch and Starsky was trying to hand him a glass. It was full of some sort of cold, wet, disgusting looking mixture.

"Wh-wha's this?" he had stammered, unable to focus his eyes very well.

"It's d'sert." Starsky had grinned down at him. A bit unsteady on his feet. "We forg't d'sert. No party w'th out d'sert."

"Wha's 'n it?"

"Ever'thin'." Starsky smiled, taking a taste of his own glass. "M' own spec'l mix."

Hutch had tried to stare suspiciously at the drink for a moment, but had decided that he might as well try to get rid of it. He didn't want to hurt his friend's feelings. He took several big gulps of the mixture, not really tasting it.

After his hell-bent trip to the bathroom, Hutch had decided that Starsky had been right. It must have had everything in the kitchen in it. For the life of him, Hutch couldn't figure out why anyone in his right mind would think of putting mayonnaise, ketchup, cookies, ice-cream and gods-knew what else in the same blender. He had called it a night for both of them and had made sure Starsky got to bed before drinking the rest of his 'dessert'.

If I feel this 'used and abused' this morning, Starsky's gotta feel like hell. Hutch grimaced to himself, just a tad glad that he had gotten rid of most of the beer. They still had to work today and he had just as soon go in feeling human. Starsky, having kept all of his beer, not to mention 'dessert', was going to have a long shift ahead of him. Well, it's not going to get any easier, he sighed. Time to get up and get moving..

Hutch slipped his robe on and made his way out of the small, bleak room.

He stumbled into the tiny bathroom, tripping over the warped and mislaid tiles, grateful that his aim at the john last night had been good. Nothing like cleaning up that kind of mess with a hangover, even a mild one. He bleakly looked himself over in the small, cracked mirror over the sink. Blood-shot blue eyes looked back at him from under a messy cap of thinning, blond hair. Some days he barely recognized the man who looked back, but after the last several months Hutch could almost see someone he once knew.

Except for one thing, Hutch sighed and rubbed his naked upper lip. Damn it, I really liked that mustache! It, like a lot of things lately, had been a casualty of their current 'situation'. One loss among many. One change for the good side had been his extra weight. He'd originally lost it through worry and stress, but had managed to keep it off. It had not been easy, considering that his goal for himself was to keep it off, while needing to put weight back on Starsky.

While staying with Starsky during his recovery, Hutch had gotten himself and his friend back to the healthier food they both needed. Starsky had bitched and complained, but Hutch had ignored him for as long as he could get away with it. When Starsky had been well enough to get out of his apartment and do his own shopping, Hutch had been pleased to see that he had taken his doctor's, if not his own, lectures seriously. The Candy Bar King had come home with more fresh fruit than sugar and more basic foodstuffs than pre-made.

Hutch had even gotten back to jogging again with Starsky's prodding, which Hutch suspected, was more to get his 'mother-hen' out of the apartment once in awhile than anything else. When the time came for Starsky to include jogging in his routine, Hutch had been back up to his old speed and distance. Hutch knew he was now more fit then he had been in a long time. It's just my personal life that looks like hell, he mused.

After finishing up his morning shower and bathroom rituals, Hutch felt much better. While not quite up to 'whistling a happy tune' his headache, fairly mild to start with, had faded to a slight whisper. He still wasn't going to chance breakfast this morning. No use tempting fate. After cleaning up Starsky's mess, I know I won't have an appetite.

He strode the few steps out of the steamy bathroom and down the hall to Starsky's open bedroom door. He had left both doors open so he could hear if Starsky got sick. The man was now buried under mounds of covers with the pillows kicked to the floor.

"Rise and shine, Starsk!" Hutch yelled from the doorway. "It's after noon already! We've got things to do!"

The only answer was a low, pitiful moan from Starsky, hiding somewhere under the covers.

Hutch walked over to the window, pulled the shade and opened it, letting the fresh air in. He dragged the covers off his friend as he passed by and dropped them on the floor, out of Starsky's reach. His friend moaned and threw up an arm, trying to block out the grimy sunlight. Hutch leaned back against the door frame, giving Starsky another minute and surveyed his friend's room.

It was exactly the same size as Hutch's, with the same used furniture and dirty walls. But Starsky had taken great pains to decorate his. Centerfolds covered the room. A few were of shapely ladies, in various stages of undress, but the majority of the pictures were of sleek and expensive cars pulled from his favorite hot-rod magazines.

Every time Hutch saw the room he snickered. Whoever heard of a grown man suffering from car withdrawal? Hutch shook his head, grinning. This looks like a teenager's room, like he's not sure which he gets off on more, the cars or the girls.

Having to leave the much abused Torino behind and depend solely on Hutch's car had been a low blow for his friend. Starsky had dealt with the fact bravely, knowing that they didn't really have any choice in the matter. The monthly payment and insurance would have been too much on their limited budget. Just one more casualty to their changed lifestyle.

"Get up Starsk! You've got 30 seconds to sit up or I'm gonna get the ice cubes." So far Hutch had never had to resort to Mrs. Starsky's favorite method of getting her night-owl son out of bed for school. But it was a fun threat, Hutch having been granted permission by Mrs. Starsky herself to apply the ice as needed.

Starsky's only reply was another moan, only louder.

"I'm going to the kitchen, Starsky," The tall, blond threatened, not moving from his perch against the door frame. "I'm getting the ice tray..."

"Still got time to sleep...." Starsky mumbled, rubbing at the dark curls covering his head, "...have some respect for your better half." Starsky tried a smile but moaned instead, holding his head still as he started to sit up. He was not quite successful at opening his own deep-blue eyes the first time, blinking in the midday light.

"At this point I have more respect for your paycheck. We gotta get up and earn our pay, Starsk."

Hutch stood quietly, watching to make sure Starsky didn't try to lie down again. Pale with sleep, headache and probably a nasty stomach, the scars across Starsky's chest and abdomen stood out more starkly than they had for months. The sight never ceased to amaze Hutch. No one should have been able to live through that kind of damage. But Starsky had and not a day went by that Hutch wasn't thankful for it.

They had talked about the scars only once, when a newly awakened Starsky had finally been allowed a glimpse of his reconfigured body. He had nearly panicked at the sight, sickened at the marred torso. But Hutch, who had seen the wounds in much worse shape, swollen, stitched and discolored, had been able to calmly steer his friend away from the horror and revulsion at the sight of the pink and drawn scars.

Over that long night's conversation, Starsky had gradually and painfully come to accept certain new facts about himself. The scars meant that his life had been saved. Hutch had assured him that eventually they would fade to pale, thin lines, a fact that Starsky well knew, but was too shocked to remember.

Although still a little sensitive to them, Starsky had become more and more comfortable with them lately. Now and again someone would catch sight of him changing in the locker room and react with awe and a heavy dose of respect. He had even electrified some of the younger men with his 'story', which got more impressive with each telling. As for the ladies, Starsky hadn't seemed to have any complaints so far. Not that either of us have had to worry about that lately, Hutch admitted to himself.

"Come on, Starsk," Hutch sighed, "we've got to be at work by 3 p.m. and we have shopping, laundry and our uniforms to pick up at the cleaners. We've got a lot to do today!" Hutch yelled over his shoulder, walking into his own room to start dressing.

Hutch was dressed and halfway through the kitchen clean-up when a dressed, but still wet and bedraggled Starsky padded down the hallway and carefully lowered himself onto the hard, gray couch. It, an end table, a lamp, a coffee table, an old TV and TV stand were the only other things in the small living area.

"Damn, Hutch," Starsky groaned, rubbing the back of his head with the damp towel. "What did you feed me last night? This hang-over tastes awful!"

"Hey! That was your concoction, not mine. You damn near poisoned me this morning," Hutch retorted, having decided from the kitchen mess that it was a miracle they had both survived. He surveyed the small kitchenette again. It was amazing how messy four feet of kitchen space could get. "I should just leave this mess alone, it would kill the mice."

"Anything left?"

"Some dry cereal, cookie crumbs, sour milk, margarine and a couple of slices of cheese." Hutch grimaced, knowing what that meant.

"Great! Breakfast!" Starsky grinned a little lopsidedly, but carefully. He stood carefully and walked slowly to the kitchen trying not to move his head any more than possible.

"Seriously, Starsky, we've got errands this morning. Besides the fact that we're out of food, we have to get some laundry done, you just used the last clean towel. And our spare uniforms should be ready at the cleaners. How much cash have you got?"

Starsky shrugged, munching on a cheese slice from one hand and a handful of cereal from the other. "Maybe five or six dollars. It's on my dresser."

Hutch left him to his breakfast and headed into Starsky's room. He finally managed to dig a few bills out of Starsky's junk-filled wallet and took an extra few minutes to track down the silver coins scattered around the mess on the dresser. He was hoping to find enough change to do all the laundry, so he headed for his own bedroom to dig through his change jar. He found little silver among the pennies. Starsky had apparently been raiding his jar again. He counted the fewer, but larger bills he found in his own wallet.

"Well," Hutch began, walking back to the couch, "We'll need to brown bag dinner again, but we've got enough left 'til tomorrow if we behave ourselves and watch what groceries we get. Then we'll be ahead on food for a couple of days."

"What's first?" Starsky asked. Having finished his breakfast he had combed his hair and was now pulling on his sneakers.

Hutch shrugged. "We'd better split up if we don't want to cut our timing too close. Your choice. You can either do the laundry or let me get the groceries."

"Gee, thanks, Hutch." Starsky smiled with a roll of his eyes. "You're sooo good to me."

"Hey, someone's gotta be a responsible adult and make sure we actually get real food this time. Your choices don't usually leave us with much to work with in the kitchen, you know." They both knew that Starsky was not a patient shopper, frequently giving in to impulse buying and Starsky rarely argued the point anymore.

"I'll just take my beauty sleep between wash cycles and dream of pizzas." Starsky grinned, stretching like a cat. "Unless, of course, Trudy shows up today."

Trudy Coates was a 'laundry friend' of both of the guys. Tall, brunette and shockingly top-heavy for a woman her size, Trudy was a stripper at the club down the street. Everyone for blocks around knew her and would stop in to say hello. She had happily introduced Ken and Dave to most of their neighbors. She usually came in once a day around noon to do a small load of her few work clothes and would talk the time away with anyone around.

Hutch grinned at his friend. "Well, if she does show up, she'll try to twist your arm into coming by and critiquing her act." Everyone around knew who Trudy's favorite was. Whenever Starsky was near, Trudy made sure he got an extra good view of her considerable assets. Starsky was constantly blushing, which always made her giggle.

"No thank you!" Starsky said meaningfully, "At this point, it'd feel like peeking on a sister. She's nice, Hutch, but I really don't want to get anything started. Laundry is about all I can handle with that girl."

It only took them a few minutes to round up their laundry and pack. They locked up and made their way down the two flights of stairs to the street. Hutch gave his bag to Starsky, along with all the loose change he had collected and headed down the block to the LTD. He told Starsky he would be back in an hour and would meet him at home.

Hutch sighed as he started the LTD and checked the gas gauge, flicking the dial to see if it would move. Better put another dollar in. We're almost down to fumes. Hutch patted the dashboard affectionately, knowing she was doing her best. The LTD still had a few more months in her, but even Hutch had come to realize that her days were numbered. He had to admit privately that she was looking pretty old and battered, even for his tastes. Even the police radio that had given her a useful appearance was missing, making her look just three steps close from collapse. Keep it up, old girl, Hutch pleaded. We need you for awhile longer yet.

He headed for his first stop, their uniform pickup. They were going to have to be careful with both sets of uniforms this week, so they didn't have to get them dry cleaned so often. Their jobs at as security guards at Iverson's called for the neat and pressed look even for those who just walked their halls at night. Iverson's, the flashy store chain catering to the 'very well-off Californian' had their main store and headquarters not far from the apartment. Off the beaten track, as far as the fancier stores went, its massive size and unparalleled selections brought the public in to this unlikely area.

Hutch grimaced at the memory of his last uniform lecture. He certainly didn't want another run-in with the supervisor of the Security Department as he and Starsky needed these jobs. They had been twenty minutes late for their shift a couple of weeks ago. His car had stalled and Ms. Marsha Quincy, supervisor and moral defender of Security's virtue, had laid them low as soon as they had come in. It had taken every ounce of will Hutch had to just stand there and take the dressing down. Starsky had been able to just tuned it out and nodded his head at the proper times. After Quincy had gotten through with her tirade, she had taken another good look at them both. Their running late had cost him his mustache and them both a close haircut. Hutch was leery of catching her attention again. All he and Starsky wanted at this point was to be left alone to do their jobs, such as they were.

It took Hutch longer than he had planned to pick up their uniforms and sort through the groceries and produce. The blond had actually been able to buy quite a bit by being careful with the coupons he had badgered Starsky into cutting out. When he opened the apartment door, he found Starsky already home with the laundry, putting it away. He noticed right away that Starsky looked tired and his bouncy mood had vanished.

"What's up, Starsk?"

Starsky just shrugged and came over to take one of the grocery bags and carry it to the kitchen counter.

"I'll help you carry up the rest." It was all the darker man would say.

After one last trip to retrieve the uniforms, Hutch confronted his friend.

"Okay, spill it."

Starsky just looked a little sheepish. "It's Trudy. Just when I thought there was a little good left in everybody, I get blown out of the water." He smiled a bit embarassedly.

"What gives? You change your mind and decide to ask her out?"

"No." Starsky dug through the bags, apparently looking for lunch. "She showed up soon after I got there and we got to talking about our favorite old movies. She kept acting funny, checking the crowd, like she was looking for something or someone. She finally came out and asked where you were. I told her you were getting groceries. She acted kinda relieved and I asked her why. Then she tells me she knew we were pretty short on cash and could help us out." Starsky shrugged, giving up his digging and started putting the items away. "Trudy's the main drug supplier for this area, Hutch. She offered to get me anything I wanted, on the cuff 'til payday."

"Damn," Hutch muttered, setting out sandwich items. Nothing he discovered about people really surprised him anymore, but Starsky always had such high hopes. "I can't believe we didn't notice her action. I just thought she was just popular, with her well 'rounded personality' and all. I never saw her pass anything. How does it go down?"

"They slip her the money at the laundromat. Then they pick up the stuff from her later while she's at the strip-club." Starsky sighed. "I passed on her offer, but asked why she hadn't said anything 'til now. She thought that you looked clean, but that I must be hurtin' for somethin'." Starsky grimaced. "She wanted to be sure about you, if you used too, before she offered. She hinted that she's looking for someone to handle this area and we could earn some extra money by pushin' on the side."

Starsky made a couple of quick sandwiches, grabbed some juice and sat on the couch. Hutch followed him, juggling his own plate. They were both quiet until they got settled.

"What did you tell her, Starsk?"

"Told her we were both pretty clean, but we both liked a party now and then. I said we had enough to tide us over for a few days, but that we'd keep our options open for a little business on the side. I said we wanted to keep clean mostly for our security jobs, for now. Thought we'd wanna keep our options open at this point. 'Course, I'm afraid to find out just where she stuffs the money," Starsky replied in his best Groucho voice, trying to lighten his own mood.

"It doesn't mean anything, Starsk," Hutch said quietly, knowing what was really bothering his friend. "You still look a little thin for your frame, is all. Even though you got your muscle tone back, your clothes still look a little large on you. Plus, this morning's binge didn't do either of us any good. This summer you'll spend more time out in the sun and you'll look more your old self."

Hutch was glad to see that Starsky finished his lunch as usual, but he still seemed pensive.

"I don't know, Hutch," Starsky said quietly, leaning back on the couch. His eyes roamed the small apartment, cataloging their meager belongings. "It just never seems to go away, or get back to normal. I work like hell to get better, get my heart set on getting back to the force so we can get in the action again and we end up here. All that work and now look where we are, living in this crummy apartment and working as lousy department store security guards. It's not exactly what I had in mind when I went through all that therapy hell." Starsky got up suddenly, took his plate back to the sink and paced slowly back and forth across the small room. "And it isn't fair for you to have to take this kinda shit with me. I mean, is that why we're here, 'cause I still look like death warmed over?" He stopped to stare out the window. "Or is this all I can do?"

Hutch eyed his partner, not answering for a moment. He wanted to see how deep this mood was going to go. Hutch hoped it was just Starsky's slightly hurt ego talking, being reminded of Gunther's hit after having felt that the recovery was finally behind him.

"Lighten up, Starsk." Hutch tossed a couch pillow toward his partner, catching him in the small of the back. He watched his friend's reaction and saw the small smile, even if Starsky didn't turn around to retaliate. "It was our choice, no regrets, remember? That means the good jobs and the bad. I'm here because I want to be, because it's a job that's got to be done. It may not be glamorous, but once we get back into the swing of things it'll get better."

"Hutch," Starsky replied with a sigh, "I'm not askin' for glamorous, but if it doesn't get better before much longer, they're gonna find me fallin' asleep at my post. I just don't see anything commin' out of this job. I feel like I'm wastin' away here."

"So, it's easy duty." Hutch got up to stand with his friend in the window, wanting to make sure he had the right perspective, "we aren't the most interesting or most important characters in this operation, but you heard what Dobey said just as well as I did. They just needed some outside cops to come in and be their eyes and ears for a few months. It was just our luck we could cut out of Metro at a day's notice like that and not have to worry about leaving family behind. We play poor, restless and cash hungry. If we hear anything, or get offered easy money, we report to Gainer." Hutch nudged his partner. "This is the perfect case to get us back into more serious business. Then the Chief won't have any reason to come down on Dobey for sending us into the heavy stuff again." Hutch smiled. "By the time we get back, the Chief probably won't even remember who we are."

Hutch knew how hard Dobey had fought with the Police Chief to keep them together. After the Gunther case had started to die down in the papers and the first of the many side cases started its way through the court system, the Chief had demanded that they both be re-partnered and Starsky assigned a permanent desk job if he recovered enough to work.

Even though Starsky had been passed for active duty by the police doctors and psychiatrists, the Chief and Dobey had fought about keeping them together and on the streets. Everyone knew the Chief didn't care for the two and their alternate style of police work, results or no results. He had pounced on the need for the detectives to be able to stay safe and be available to testify in the numerous upcoming court cases, including the case against James Marshall Gunther himself. Cases that could run on for years.

Dobey had stood firm and had come close to putting his own job on the line. He had demanded the right to run his department as he saw fit and nobody on the force was going to break up his teams without his approval. Only the pair's striking conviction record and the real threat of losing all three from the force caused the Chief to finally back down. This small, boring, loaner assignment was meant to lay aside the Chief's fears and keep them out of his sight for awhile

"I know," Starsky answered sheepishly, "I just hate to be low rung on the ladder. Lonnie Gainer drives me bananas, Hutch." He shrugged. "He's such an asshole sometimes. I just hate to think of him as my superior in anything." Starsky looked around their apartment once more and glanced at his partner, a glint in his eye. "And I also didn't realize that it called for us living in constant poverty, on beginning salaries and having to leave the Torino at home. I'm just not suited to being this needy, 'n that car of yours is enough to drive anyone into permanent depression."

"Yeah?" Hutch shot back, glad that Starsky's mood was passing, "Well, my old car's doing a fine job in getting us where we need to go. It's already gotten Trudy's attention. And that over-grown paint job with wheels would have been real believable on our budget." He grinned at the play of emotions on Starsky's face. "Of course, you could have volunteered to have it repainted a nice, respectable color, like, say, dented gray or something. And speaking of depression," Hutch added, glancing at his watch, "we've got to get a move on. Wouldn't want to be late for work and get fired, would we? Gainer would love that. He hates us being in on this."

"Don't you mean Mr. Thomas Underwood, assistant secretary to Dennis Liston?" Starsky replied sarcastically, heading for the closet to retrieve the clean work uniforms while Hutch packed them both a brown-bag dinner. "Wouldn't that be a big loss. At least then we could go home and our lifestyle would take a definite 'n immediate step up."

***

The locker rooms in the basement of Iverson's were the cleanest set Hutch had ever seen. All the lockers were kept neat and freshly painted, the changing rooms kept swept and litter free while the scent of pine freshener flowed through the cool and filtered air. It and all the other employee rooms located in the first-floor rear were painted in light and cheerful colors and it annoyed Hutch to no end. Like working for Disney or something, Hutch thought. But I guess if you're fond of your workplace, you'll goof off and steal less.

Arriving with plenty of time to spare, the two detectives made their way over to their lockers and started to get changed for work. Hutch sighed as he pulled the plastic bag off of his fresh uniform. He hated the tight fit and suspected it clashed with his coloring. It made him feel like a bellhop. Hutch dressed in a few moments then checked his utility belt. That's a joke, he thought. No gun, but a large leather belt with a set of keys, a flashlight, a walkie-talkie clip and a nightstick. None of them he was actually supposed to use, except for the walkie-talkie.

"Ready yet, Ken?" Starsky's put-upon voice sounded behind him as he was fixing his hair.

"Whenever you are, Dave," Hutch replied with a snicker. I may clash, but at least I don't look like an overgrown leprechaun, Hutch thought with amusement.

Starsky glared back. Hutch knew that it drove Starsky crazy when he said 'Dave' that way. It felt strange to Hutch too, which is why Hutch liked to say it in the most irritating way he could.

Their cover names had been pretty generic and for a change both detectives had decided to use their own first names. They didn't usually do that, but decided that since their private lives were to be used as part of their cover there would be less chance of a slip-up this way. Now that they were stuck with them, Starsky was not sure it had been a good idea after all. Calling Hutch 'Joe', 'Harry' or 'George' wouldn't have seemed as strange as calling him 'Ken' all the time. And hearing Hutch call him 'Dave' in that tone was just out-right weird. Now they were stuck with 'Kenneth Avery' and 'Dave Coleman' for the duration.

Hutch finished his fussing and settled his hat carefully upon his head. Without a word he reached over and straightened Starsky's too.

"Three minutes 'til show time, Dave. Let's go."

They made their way through the mill of employees to the time clock and found their cards. They both managed to punch in right before 3:00 p.m. and made their way to the large-windowed security office to pick up their assignments for the night.

"Kenny! Davey!" They were greeted just as soon as they entered the large room.

Arnold Ford stood leaning against the counter, smiling like his best friends had just entered the room. Arnold was an older man, close to retirement. His white hair, jaunty smile and unending cheerfulness made him one of the all time favorites of the employees at Iverson's as well as it's many regular clients.

"How's it going Arnold?" Hutch asked, making it a point to come over and shake the man's hand.

"Just swell, Kenny, just swell!" He grinned, shaking Starsky's hand as well. "How's it going with you two? Feel settled in yet?"

"You know it, Arnold." Starsky smiled back. "Getting to feel like home."

"Oh, that's great guys." Arnold beamed.

"Yeah, Arnold," Hutch joined in, "we really appreciate all the help you gave us when we hit town. It would have taken us days to find anything we could have afforded this close to work. You really were a lifesaver."

"Well," Arnold replied in a whisper, glancing around to make sure they were the only ones within earshot, "When my old friend Tommy called and told me about you guys needing jobs, what can a guy do but help out?" He patted Starsky's arm sympathetically. "When I found out about Davey's accident, I knew I could get you both work here. Tommy sure gave you a both a glowing recommendation. Ms. Quincy wasn't pleased, you know." He glanced again towards the back office, lowering his voice. "But I have my own bit of power around here." He grinned mischievously.

"No doubt about that Arnold, no doubt about that," Hutch replied with a smile. He knew that Tommy had been a local cop and he and Arnold had been best friends forever. Retired now, Tommy had been persuaded by his old captain to call his friend with a cover story for the two detectives.

As far as Arnold knew, Dave Coleman had been in a near fatal car accident and had to have massive surgery. Dave had lost his job and his insurance had balked at some of the therapy bills. A longtime friend of his, Kenneth Avery, had suffered through a nasty divorce a few years back and had taken Dave in to help share expenses. After Dave's bankruptcy, both had decided to call it quits with the area and try to start fresh somewhere else.

Arnold had taken the story to heart and had assured Tommy that if the two wanted a job at Iverson's to come on down and he would get them one. True to his word, when Ken and Dave had arrived in town in a beat-up LTD with all their worldly possessions stuffed in the back seat and trunk, Arnold had not only 'found' them two starting positions in security, but had scouted out the nearest apartments. He had been apologetic at the beginning salaries and the fact they'd have to share an apartment because of it. Hutch had been overwhelmed with the man's winning personality and his heart of gold. They had been able to talk with him over for a few dinners and had happily listened to the old man's life stories.

The other night shift guards came trickling in and Arnold greeted every one of them. While he was on the day shift, there was an hour overlap and Arnold liked to hang around and meet the next shift as they came in. He liked to see everyone settled into their work before he left at 4 p.m.

Sarah Keats, secretary to Ms. Quincy, came into the office from the back room carrying the night's schedule with her. She was a sunny blond with short hair, a bold smile and a very sexy figure. Hutch had made it clear from the first day on the job that he would love to get to know her better. But try as he might, he still couldn't seem to get even the time of day from her. All he had managed so far was a shrug and an uninterested 'maybe some other time' in response to his most charming moves. All the more interesting for the challenge, Hutch thought with a sly smile, making an effort to stand a little straighter as the diminutive blond entered the room. Now if I can only get on days and catch her on a break...

"Hi, guys!" Sarah loudly greeted the group, flashing a bright but distracted smile. She set the schedule on the counter and started on her nightly litany. "Read it and weep, boys. Don't forget to check your 'talkie batteries. Today is Thursday, so closing time is 8 p.m. Keep an eye on the Lingerie and Costume Jewelry counters, we show a big loss there this week. Ms. Quincy asked me to remind you that whistling, humming or talking to the customers is prohibited, except for answering direct questions and giving directions." She glanced at Starsky out of the corner of her eye, who grinned mischievously back. "Cash drawers will be empty by 8:30, so be at your stations before then. Check in every 30 minutes to the base by 'talkie after lockup." She looked around and shrugged, "Same as usual, guys, shift change in 45 minutes." And with that she waved at the group and headed into the back office as the guards checked the sheet and headed out towards their posts. Hutch hadn't even rated a glance.

"I think you're wearin' her down, Ken." Starsky grinned, making his way over to the night's schedule. "She almost looked at you that time. Oh, man," Starsky moaned, checking the sheet for his name, "I got the Children's floor tonight."

"I thought you loved that floor," Hutch said, throwing one last, longing look toward the back office and the absent Sarah. "What's up?"

"I do, but not with Reynolds." Starsky glanced around the room, making sure Reynolds was not close enough to overhear. "'The Grinch that stole Christmas'. He scares the kids. Won't even smile or anything. Plus, he gets pissed if I just happen to spend a few minutes in the toy section. Claims I'm goofing off," Starsky added, steering Hutch in the direction of the employees elevators after his quick glance at the sheet.

"You're not supposed to check out the toys," Hutch reminded him with a grin and waited for the elevator door to open. They were lucky and got an empty one. "I got Wally Kraft on the Jewelry and Perfume floor. There goes my sinuses for the evening. At least Wally is easy to spend time with."

While both men worked the night shift, Starsky and Hutch had yet to be paired off on a floor. This was not surprising. As thorough as Ms. Quincy was, she should know that it was only common sense to keep patrols changing and close friends separated. She was too sharp not to notice that the two men always arrived together and that their folders held the same home address and phone number. This gave the guys a good chance to get to know many of the guards on their shift and to cover as much ground as possible while apart. Some of the pairings were more enjoyable than others, however.

On his first night shift with Reynolds, Starsky had been disgusted to report that he had been lucky to get a grunt or two out of the man. Starsky had complained that despite his friendliest attempts at conversation, he had learned little about him, as Reynolds didn't like guys who asked too many questions. Starsky had been forced to do little make his rounds quietly when paired with Reynolds.

Hutch had fared better for the evening, having always enjoyed working with Wally Kraft. Tall, built like a mountain, the painfully shy black man was in his early twenties. When finally coerced into conversation during one long night's shift, Wally had shown himself to be exceptionally well-read. He was a daytime college student and had little time for socializing off the job. He was currently working through some of the 'less loved' plays of Shakespeare and had been overjoyed that Hutch was willing to discuss the bard endlessly.

This evening both detectives had drawn the first dinner shift and would see each other at break. Until then, Hutch had another evening of looking out for shoplifters, tag switches, reuniting lost children with their parents and steering people towards the rest rooms.

***

Hutch made it to dinner break first, carrying the two paper sacks of food. The employee grill was closed and the dining room was pretty much deserted this time of evening. Most of the employees who were still here at 7:00 p.m. were only on coffee breaks. They only had an hour or so of work left and looked forward to going home to family and dinner. The cleaning crew would not arrive until after closing, so the only ones actually eating a meal were the guards. Hutch found an empty table over in the far corner, away from the rows and rows of vending machines. He threw his hat at one end of the table and sat their dinner sacks at the other. This way the other employees would know the whole table was saved. The guards always tried to eat together and talk during the break, so it wouldn't be such a lonely meal.

Hutch was choosing juice out of one of the machines when the others started trickling in. Iverson's left one guard on duty on a floor at all times during business hours and two after closing, so there were usually around six people or so for each dinner break from the 'floor walkers'. Starsky came in with Saputo and Ames, laughing at a joke one of them made. He waved toward Hutch and settled down with the other men. Starsky checked out both sacks before deciding on one.

"So, how's business tonight, guys?" Hutch asked the group as he made his way back to the table.

"Aw, man, it's slower than hell up there." Saputo yawned, unpacking his own lunch. "Sometimes I wish something big would happen, just to liven up the evening."

"Not me," volunteered Jefferson, who had just joined the group. "I like my work nice and quiet. It's during my off duty hours that I like to live in the fast lane."

"You must live pretty fast then, Jefferson," Starsky said, digging through the items in his dinner sack. He grinned wickedly. "How many kids you got now?"

The rest of the group broke out in laugher at the red faced but smiling Jefferson. Everyone well knew the man was getting close to adding another little one to his already substantial family.

Evening talk continued towards store gossip through the rest of the dinner break. Not having much contact with the other employees while on the evening shift, most of the guards knew each other's life stories pretty well. They had all heard about Dave's car accident and how he had nearly died and how he and Ken had made it out to this section of California. In return, the two new men had been treated to most everyone else's life history.

It's amazing how much you can pick up from bored employees in just over a month, Hutch thought. This place is almost as bad with gossip as Metro.

As usual, the talk turned serious for awhile. Speculations were made about the latest robberies to hit Iverson's. Hutch knew that this branch of Iverson's held the main headquarters and collection area for the other branches' jewelry supply. Many of the gems, pearl necklaces and set stones were purchased from overseas in bulk by Dennis Liston, head of Iverson's Jewelry department for the entire chain. The shipments arrived here and were sorted and stored in the vaults in the vast Jewelry lab, deep in the store's basement. Once a month or so, the new arrivals were divided, packed and transported by armored cars and chartered planes to the different branches across the United States.

Once each month, for the past three months, one of the overland car shipments of jewelry to a Iverson's branch had been waylaid and the jewelry disappeared. The shipment's times and routes had always been kept secret, but the thieves had known exactly where they would be and at what time they were the most vulnerable. Almost half a million dollars in merchandise had been taken so far and to make matters worse, not one piece had shown up in any of the underground markets, even after three months.

No one had been seriously hurt in the first robbery, but in the second one a guard had been killed. While the transportation and security operations for the whole store chain was under the department of Royston Collins, Ms. Quincy's boss, a step up the corporate ladder meant working under Collins. Over the past several weeks, Hutch had heard many of his fellow guards questioning whether the increased pay and training were actually worth the risk.

Detective Sergeant Lonnie Gainer of Robbery for this precinct had been one of the detectives working to solve these robberies. Most of the men working on the case had centered their investigations outside the chain store, in fences, possible overseas market connections and known jewelry thieves in the area. Gainer had convinced his captain that there was good reason to believe that the robberies were set up from inside the store, from someone higher up in the executive branch. With the knowledge and co-operation of Dennis Liston, he had been hired as Thomas Underwood. He was to be an assistant to Liston's own secretary, Aaron Jameson, who had been kept unaware of Gainer's real identity. After a month undercover with no results, his captain had been tempted to pull his man from this aspect of the case. Gainer had fought to stay inside, pointing out that all the other avenues had also proved fruitless.

Captain Anthony Pasquini had allowed his officer to stay, but had decided to put more men on the case to work at it from different angles. That was when Pasquini had talked to Dobey at Metro to see if he had any men he could spare for a few months in an undercover setup.

It had not been one of the more exciting assignments on the list, but Dobey had convinced Starsky and Hutchinson that it was a good way to get out of their Police Chief's way for awhile. After accepting the temporary transfer and meeting Detective Gainer, they had both come away with the feeling that they had just put themselves into a dead-end situation.

Captain Pasquini had not seemed to have much confidence that there was actually any connection between the store employees or management and the robberies and had reported his doubts to Starsky and Hutch in their first briefing. As he had pointed out, any operation could conceivably overcome any secrets in merchandise handling by simply becoming familiar with the stores schedules. The thieves had been ham-handed and seemed amateurish in action and timing. Except for the amount of jewelry taken, they appeared to be small time thieves.

While not impressed with the character of the man, Hutch had been struck by Detective Gainer's willingness to take a stand on this case, when there seemed to have been little to back him up. Gainer had kept to his guns throughout the many briefings, insisting that his informant was on to something and the robberies were coming from inside. Later, Starsky had admitted that he hadn't thought much of Gainer. He had grumbled that he did not think that Gainer was taking a stand to save his case as much as he did not want to admit he was wrong.

Gainer had not been pleased with the addition of the other detectives on 'his' case and had not volunteered his informant's identity. He had, in fact, not volunteered any information to the new detectives, leaving that job to his captain. Since Gainer had been given authority over the new 'recruits', Starsky and Hutch had to be content with reporting anything they discovered to Gainer and letting him handle the case as he saw fit.   So far, there had not been anything to find as far as the detectives could tell and if Gainer was onto something, he apparently was not inclined to share.

Dinner break for the guards ended quietly, each man apparently mulling over the robberies. Hutch made his way up to his assigned floor and reported in. With most of the other guards he teamed up with, he would have to chase them down in order to relieve them for break, but today Hutch knew right where Wally Kraft would be.

If Wally isn't at the Jewelry counter, making eyes at April May Sims, then he's gonna be pretty damn close to it, Hutch thought with a grin. He made his way over to the Jewelry section and smiled to himself as soon as he saw Kraft. While not actually setting foot in the Jewelry department, Kraft had found a place against one of the walls where he could keep an eye on the pretty young lady behind the counter, yet melt into the background as much as possible.

Hutch had had the pleasure of meeting April Sims during his first night shift and anything he had not learned from her had been supplied by Wally. April was a shapely, handsome black woman who knew her way well behind the Jewelry counter. She was quiet, sharp and seemed to be well liked by the customers. She had some college courses under her belt, but was mostly self-taught in the gem trade. She hoped to have her own jewelry line someday. Wally seemed to think that April was a genius. Hutch had been amused at Wally's obvious pride in April's accomplishments, since the man had yet to actually ask the young lady out.

Hutch had been glad to do his part to help matters along whenever he could, cruising the rest of the floor while allowing Wally to hover around the Jewelry counter. Wally usually returned the favor by letting Hutch steer clear of the perfume counters after closing.

Hutch saw Wally on his way to his dinner break and back before the closing announcements were made at 7:45. Iverson's announced closing every five minutes and the guards and salespeople were kept busy with rounding up customers and politely heading them towards the door. As usual, it was around 8:15 when the final customer of the night was heralded over to the elevator and Hutch could radio down that their floor was closed.

By 8:30 the cash drawers were emptied and balanced and the money, check and charge receipts collected and locked up by the bookkeeping employees. The whole store quickly became like a tomb as the last of the day employees left, leaving the store to the night guards and the cleaning crew.

Hutch had always considered that two guards to a floor was overkill, even for a massive store of this size, but time did pass quicker with someone else around and it helped to keep the guards honest. But still, the next three and a half hours seemed like forever and Hutch was going to be more than ready to call it a day.

 

FRIDAY

At 12:01 am. both Hutch and Wally were relieved by the midnight shift. They headed down together with the other guards to check out and pick up their paychecks. Hutch had changed quickly and had already said good-bye to Wally when Reynolds came in to change. Hutch made small talk with the other departing guards, watching Reynolds out of the corner of his eye as the other man dressed and prepared to leave.

Not like Starsk to leave late, he thought, slightly concerned when Starsky was not quick to arrive after his shift-partner. Maybe he got sidetracked with the toys and is picking them up. His concern deepened when Reynolds was finished and ready to leave, yet Starsky still had not arrived.

"Hey, Reynolds, Coleman still stuck upstairs?" Hutch ventured, not expecting much response.

"Haven't seen him for awhile," Reynolds replied with disgust and a nasty look in Hutch's direction. "Must have dozed off somewhere. It's not my job to worry about him keeping his ass outta trouble." Reynolds grabbed his belongings and strode out of the employee locker room, ending any further conversation.

Cheerful guy, Hutch thought in disgust, Starsky must have had a fun time tonight. Everyone else had changed and left and Starsky had still not come down. Hutch was two seconds from going back upstairs to look for him when Starsky came through the door, looking tired and white-faced.

Starsky headed straight for his locker around the corner and Hutch followed close behind. "Bad night?" Hutch asked quietly, watching his partner's face.

"Nah." Starsky shrugged, looking a little sheepish. "Something sure didn't agree with me though. After my last coffee break, I felt awful. Something kept running right through me and I had to spend a lotta time in the john. I'm sure Reynolds noticed that he spent a lotta time by his lonesome for awhile. I sure know how to impress 'em." He glanced slyly at his partner, a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. "It must'a been dinner, pal. Remind me to pack my own meals from now on."

"Hey!" Hutch said, waving his finger at his partner. "If you can eat three-day-old meatloaf sandwiches without getting the runs, then you can handle anything I can dish out. Besides, it's probably that birthday mess you mixed up yesterday morning. You're probably lucky you got through a whole shift with that stuff in your system."

"Nah, it's probably knowin' today was payday," Starsky replied with a heartfelt sigh. "Can you believe tryin' to make a livin' with that amount of chump change? The bank is gonna laugh at me again." Finishing the last loop on his worn-out Adidas, Starsky waved his partner toward the door and pulled on his jacket. "Let's get home, huh? My head's starting to hurt again and I'm not sure how long I wanna be outta contact with a bathroom."

They made their way through the corridors without seeing anyone and left by the employees' rear entrance. It was dark and moonless. Hutch took in a lungful of the cool air, smelling the distant ocean and a hint of mist early morning mist.

The private employee lot was dimly lit and surrounded by a tall wooden fence. There were several cars belonging to the midnight shift parked close to the entrance door, commanding the few lit spaces under the single dim spotlight. The detectives walked past them into the chilled darkness of the night, turning the collars up on their jackets, eyes and ears scanning the area. Neither Starsky nor Hutch talked or looked at each other as they studied the dark lot toward Hutch's car. Hutch fell into the old pattern without a thought, senses alert to the distance, pace and stance of his partner. It was like a second skin to him, moving as a team on the streets, prepared at any second to evade, capture or backup his partner at the slightest twitch of action.

Hutch held back a deep sigh as he surveyed the dark hulk of the LTD. By luck, fate or design, Hutch almost always ended up having to parking in the farthest, darkest corner of the lot. And at the end of almost every shift there were lose papers and garbage blown up and around his car by the evening breeze.

Starsky threw his partner a disgusted look as he made a show of kicking the garbage away from the passenger door. Hutch ignored him, quickly unlocked his door and settled himself, leaning over to unlock the passenger side. So help me, Hutch though with exasperation, recognizing the look in his partners eye, if he starts on my car tonight I'll just leave him here. For some reason, Starsky had bent down and was ignoring the open door. "Come on, Starsk, let's go."

"Wait, Hutch, hold it," Starsky replied, deadly serious. He was still squatting down out of Hutch's sight. "You'd better come and get a look at this,"

Hutch quickly opened his own door instantly knowing that Starsky had gone into his 'cop' mode. He started around the back of the LTD, eyes scanning underneath. Hutch had just gotten to the trunk area when he froze. In the inky blackness of the midnight shadows Hutch could make the vague outline of what looked to be a shoe and ankle. He reached down and tentatively touched the shoe, verifying it's shape in the dark. The rest of the body invisible under the car.

Starsky had gone back to the glove compartment to get the flashlight. He shone the light under the back wheel. "I saw a glint and bent down to check it out," Starsky said quietly. "It's a ring and it's still on a hand. It must have caught the light from the security light

"Toss it here, Starsk," Hutch asked, catching the flashlight.

Feeling a familiar tightness in his gut, Hutch squatted down and played the light over the wind-blown debris under his car. The lower half of the body seemed to be a man dressed in gray slacks and dark blue shirt, with a darker thin wind-breaker. Hutch had the chilling feeling that he might have seen this man before, but wasn't sure. He a long arm under the car to brush aside some wind blown garbage and shone the light upon the area where man's head should be. It took only a second for him to divert the light. "Oh man, Starsk," Hutch breathed, fighting the sudden feeling of nausea.

Starsky, who had been pale before leaving the store for the night, now looked a bit steadier. He had come around to squat down by Hutch and without a word held his hand out for the flashlight.

You'd think that after all these years I'd be able to handle a body better, Hutch thought in self-disgust. In those few seconds he had seen no face under the mass of dried blood, tissue and white flecks of bone. Hutch had never been able to handle a fresh body very well, gratefully letting his partner examine those cases. He considered it one of his biggest weakness'. Starsky had never commented on it, always letting Hutch handle the reports while he handled the examination of those newly dead.

At least I can return the favor for him when the tables are turned, Hutch thought with some satisfaction, watching his partner calmly examine the body. Starsky tended to shy away from the decayed corpses, unnerved by the natural decomposition of the human body. Hutch could do those distasteful examinations without a qualm, knowing he was saving Starsky from having to deal with them. I guess the longer they've been gone, the less human I feel they are, Hutch sighed to himself. Wonder what that says about me?

"Well, buddy," Starsky's grim voice broke the silence, his glance at Hutch told him there could be no mistake. "I guess we have something to report to Detective Gainer now, don't we? Think he'd be interested in a murder?"

***

The early morning hours of this particular Friday had been a classic case of 'hurry up and wait' for the both of the detectives. Hutch had left Starsky the unenviable position of guarding the crime scene for the few minutes it took to alert the night-shift supervisor.

In a hurried discussion they had decided to go the civilian route with this. Captain Pasquini might want their undercover roles uncompromised. Using the police radio in Hutch's car, moved and hidden under the passenger seat, would have caused too many questions. They agreed to wait and inform the Homicide Detectives of their real identities and let them contact Captain Pasquini. He would make the decision on who had the need to know. No need to advertise.

After the first uniformed officers had checked dead body call, Starsky and Hutch had been taken aside while extra squad cars arrived to cordon off the area for the Homicide team. Their undercover ID's had been taken and both had been shepherded back into the store, where they had been separated and told to wait for their statements to be taken.

Hutch had spent the time sitting at someone else's desk, head on arms, replaying the scene over in his mind. He went over the way the evening shift had come and gone, trying to decide the best time the parking lot would have been deserted enough for murder. Any information he and Starsky could come up with might be helpful, if and when the time of death and identification of the body was made. I know I must have seen him before, if only for a few minutes, Hutch mused. But I just can't place him.

After nearly two hours, a middle-aged, well-dressed black man opened the door and nodded at Hutch. He walked over and presented his hand.

"Hello, Mr. Avery, I'm Detective Greg Phillips from Homicide and I've come to take your statement about this tragic event. I'm sure we can get you squared away and home in no time." The man smiled and talked quietly, giving the impression of a friend, someone you could trust.

Hutch was immediately struck by the man's friendly and smooth demeanor at such an early hour. Obviously a seasoned professional, Hutch thought with a bit of relief. Maybe he's someone we can actually work with for a change. A detective could elicit good information from a witness when putting them at ease and Phillips obviously was very calm and comfortable in this situation.

"Pleased to meet you, Detective Phillips," Hutch stood and shook the detective's hand, "but I'm not Kenneth Avery. My real name is Detective Kenneth Hutchinson, of Metro. I work under Captain Harold Dobey, but am on temporary assignment to Captain Anthony Pasquini. My partner is Detective Dave Starsky and he is undercover as Dave Coleman, the other man who discovered the body." Hutch smiled at Phillip's surprised look and handed the detective his ID and badge. "I think you'd better call Pasquini in on this. He may not want our covers compromised."

"Hot damn!" Phillips cursed, a look of disgust crossing his face. He sat heavily in the chair opposite Hutch and stared at him for a moment. "Wouldn't you know that my first hot lead would be a washout." He sighed and picked up the phone. After a lengthy call to his station-house, Phillips read the extension off the office phone, hung up and waited quietly.

Hutch kept silent, knowing that Phillips was waiting for a call from Captain Pasquini. Phillips wouldn't talk or continue the case until Pasquini could confirm or deny his cover operatives in this situation.

After five long minutes the phone rang and Phillips answered it. He relayed the information Hutch had given him over the phone and silently handed the receiver over to Hutch.

"Hutchinson, that you?" Captain Pasquini asked in a sleep dulled voice.

"Yes sir. Starsky and I were on our way home and found the body under my car out in the employee lot. As far as I know, Phillips is the only one who knows who we are." He glanced at Phillips who nodded his head at the question. "What do you want Starsky and I to do?"

"Give Phillips your report and go home." Captain Pasquini replied after a thoughtful moment. "Be at my office at 10:00 a.m. and I'll pull Gainer in. We'll see what we have then." Hutch handed the phone back to Phillips and watched as Phillips took his orders.

Detective Phillips hung up silently and shook his head in disbelief. "Might was well get your partner in here and go over it all at once. Let's see what we've got."

As Starsky was brought in and introduced to the Homicide Detective. "Just as a matter of record, Detective Starsky, you didn't happen to kill that poor man outside, did you?" Phillips flashed Starsky a crooked smile.

"No." Starsky answered casually, casting an amused look at his partner. "Why, you takin' volunteers?"

"Well, it would have made things a lot simpler on this case." Phillips grinned back, shrugging. "When the cop on the scene described how calm and cool you two acted, I decided to put you two on ice 'til we could call in the rest of Iverson's night shift. Most were still awake and came over pretty quickly. After taking preliminary statements it was found that one guard had disappeared on and off after closing hours. And he couldn't be accounted for by his partner for as much as fifteen minutes at a time." Phillips smiled questioningly at Starsky's sheepish look. "Hutchinson here seems to have an alibi from his partner for his whole shift and he was seen on breaks by quite a few others. What about you Detective Starsky?"

"Stomach trouble. I was in the john," Starsky replied shortly, shifting in his chair embarassedly. Hutch chuckled quietly and Starsky flashed him a dirty look.

Starsky and Hutch gave Phillips a complete rundown on their evening shifts. It was 5:00 a.m. by the time Phillips let them go. Both were hustled out quietly into the back of a black-and-white and dropped within a few blocks of their apartment. Hutch had lost possession of his car for the duration of the death scene investigation, but expected to have it back by tomorrow afternoon.

Neither one said much on the way. Hutch felt tired and depressed, knowing that the scant amount of information they had been able to supply Detective Phillips had not been of much help. Hutch was not surprised when a obviously subdued Starsky passed on an early morning snack, opting instead for bed.

***

The next morning found Starsky and Hutch seated together at a long table in the local precinct, waiting for the start of the 10:00 a.m. meeting. The room was crowded with detectives, few of them Hutch was familiar with. They were initially greeted by a tired and harassed-looking Detective Phillips and quickly introduced to his partner, Robert Sanders. Young, strawberry-blond and a face full of freckles, Sanders looked uncomfortable in an obviously new suit. Showing all the signs of a newly-made detective, he seemed overly impressed with the group, flashing an embarrassed smile, but saying nothing.

The only detective in the room who knew actually knew the Metro men was the one who continued to ignore their existence. Hutch watched Detective Lonnie Gainer out of the corner of his eye as the man stood in a corner of the room, sipping on a cup of coffee. Hutch noticed the man had arrived by himself and had not greeted or talked to any of the other officers. A smaller, dark-haired, dark-eyed man, Detective Gainer carried the look of haughty superiority about him. Always impeccable and stylishly dressed, he had a snobbish attitude, as if he found everyone around him slightly distasteful and corrupt.

Starsky, as usual, had commandeered a couple of donuts from somewhere and had offered one to Hutch, who had declined in favor of black coffee.

"Doesn't look like Gainer is very popular with anyone," Hutch whispered to Starsky, who threw a quick glance at the detective in question. "Guess we aren't the only ones who don't care for him."

"I think it's the other way 'round, Hutch," Starsky replied distractedly around a bit of donut, reaching for Hutch's coffee. "I think it's the rest of us who don't fit into his idea of proper police procedure." Starsky made a face at the bitter, black coffee in Hutch's cup. He ignored his partner's snort of disgust as he swirled a large chunk of donut into the captive cup."

"Oh, just keep it," Hutch said with a repulsed look on his face, declining the cup Starsky offered to return. "Thanks for ruining my coffee pal."

"It's not ruined," Starsky replied with a slight smile, "the sugar would be good for you, quick energy. And the crumbs are needed calories."

Their conversation was suddenly interrupted as Captains Pasquini and Lang entered the room. Captain Lang was of the Homicide division and oversaw the work done by Phillips and Sanders. He and Captain Pasquini had obviously decided this was a joint case for Robbery and Homicide.

Captain Lang took over the briefing, not wasting any time. "Gentlemen, we are all aware of the murder at Iverson's last night. The reason Captain Pasquini and I are here is to let you know that there is an on-going undercover robbery investigation going on inside that store. The three men undercover are Detectives Starsky, Hutchinson and Gainer." He motioned toward the three men. "Captain Pasquini and I, and the Chief, have decided that for now these officers will maintain their cover. As you will see, there is a good possibility that we are all working on the same case."

"My men," Captain Lang looked seriously around the room, "will treat this in the usual manner, starting with what we now know and working the usual angles. We are introducing you to Captain Pasquini's men in order to avoid confusion. When it's needed, Starsky, Hutchinson and Gainer will be treated and questioned in the same manner as other civilians in the case. If they discover anything that may help our case, or we theirs, then that information will be reported to Pasquini and I. You will be notified accordingly." Captain Lang looked at Pasquini, who signaled for him to continue.

Captain Lang picked up his fact sheet and started to read off the current information. "The deceased's name was Douglas Kirk, Head Jeweler of Iverson's. He was in charge of quality, design and maintenance of the Jewelry lab located in the basement of the building. He hired gemologists and various tradesmen to work at the resizing, repair, engraving and the Original and Custom Design workshop for the main branch. He inspected, graded and sorted the overseas purchases for the entire corporation, including those branches on the East Coast."

"The man was 65 years of age, divorced, with two children he was not close to. His ex-wife and children are located in Florida and are en-route here. They maintain by phone that they do not know anything of his current personal life or friends."

"The Jewelry lab officially closes at 6:00 p.m., except for shipments coming in and out, but Kirk was known to keep unusual hours, working as he saw fit. We are still in the process of checking his whereabouts during the evening. We will be interviewing his personnel today."

"Time of death is listed at or around 11:00 p.m., give or take an hour. Death at this point would seem to be from a blow to the front of the head and face, as there seems to be no fatal wounds to the other parts of the body. There may have been an attempt to conceal the identity of the victim, considering the amount of damage inflicted upon the face. While there does not seem to be evidence of any struggle, the lab will need a few more days for chemical tests and skull reconstruction.

The car belongs to Detective Hutchinson. Both he and Detective Starsky were the first to discover the body. A copy of their reports are included in your files. The car has been gone over and processed, with no new evidence found. As far as we can tell at this point, the car's location was the only reason the body was hidden beneath it. And that, gentlemen," Captain Lang looked around the room, "is all that we have at this point." He nodded toward Captain Pasquini.

"Gentlemen," Captain Pasquini nodded towards his three detectives, "come with me please."

The four of them walked the short distance to Pasquini's office and arranged themselves inside.

"We are, of course, co-operating fully with Homicide on this case." Captain Pasquini began, settling at his desk. "You men will continue in your covers until further notice. Do you have anything you wish to add to your reports?"

"No sir." Gainer answered, quickly.

Starsky glanced at Hutch and shrugged apologetically. "Sorry, Cap'n."

Captain Pasquini sighed and drummed his fingers on the table. "Gainer, I want you to go over the information you originally obtained, so that we can rethink our positions here." The Captain leaned back, giving his detective a significant look and leaving Hutch to wonder what was not being said between the two.

Gainer frowned at his Captain and glared at the two Metro detectives. He obviously didn't want to share his information.

Starsky left his perch on a chair arm and took a few steps toward the man, only to be met with a defiant look. "Listen, Gainer, we're not rookies here. We've been through this stuff a few times ourselves." Starsky's voice rose, frustration showed on his face.

"We're not after your thunder," Hutch said quietly and firmly from his chair, aiming his voice at his partner. Keep it cool, Starsk, we don't have a lot to say for ourselves at this point either. "We know it's your informant and your show..."

"...but we don't like to be kept guessing," Starsky continued a bit calmer, flashing a frustrated glance at his partner, but talking to Gainer. "And we've been under for almost four weeks now. We're at a dead-end and we'd like to hear what you've got so far."

Gainer looked trapped. "After the first robbery, we worked with the Federal Marshals and the local police at the robbery sight." Gainer began, obviously uncomfortable with retelling the story. "They seemed to feel that the robberies were staged locally, by two-bit hoods. Anyone could have timed the deliveries over a period of time and traced routes. After the second robbery, we started concentrating more in the local area. As far as I know, none of the stolen jewelry has ever been recovered."

Gainer glanced at the other men again, his lips pursed in a thin line. "I had a salesperson from the jewelry area approach me here at the station with some suspicions. They had noticed some pieces that seemed out of place in the store rooms and had noticed that Douglas Kirk had been acting strangely since just before the first robbery. I've had some access to the physical records of the items listed as stolen and as far as I can tell, nothing looks out of place. I've been studying the Jewelry lab downstairs and haven't seen anything out of the ordinary there either. As far as I could tell, whatever was bothering Kirk didn't have anything to do with the robberies. He may have prepared and cataloged the items for shipment, but he had no control or information on their actual movements either before or after they left his vaults."

"What did the salesperson find out of place?" Hutch asked quietly.

"Some of the set diamonds and un-set gems that were put aside for a certain store didn't seem just right. My informant couldn't be specific, as it was not an official appraisal. They reported to me that Kirk acted very nervous when he found this individual near the items, examining a few of them. He asked them to leave the area and had been acting strange and distant since then. They weren't sure, but they think the 'off' merchandise was in the shipment that was taken during the second theft. They were afraid that something was wrong and that Kirk might have been mixed up in the robberies. They came in to Robbery wanting to know if we could get him out of any trouble before he got in too deep. They were hoping for some kind of amnesty deal for him, to give him a way out."

Hutch looked over at Starsky, a question in his eyes. It's not hard to guess, is it Starsk, Hutch thought to his partner. I think we both know who it is. Starsky nodded, letting Hutch know he was thinking the same thing.

"It was April May Sims who came to you," Starsky said, with a slight grin, enjoying Gainer's shocked look.

"Yeah," Gainer admitted, suddenly red faced. "It was. How did you know?"

"She was the only salesperson on any shift that had personal access to the Jewelry labs," Hutch replied quickly, frustrated by Gainers' closed attitude. "And she knew Kirk well enough to have known if he were acting strange. She was his protégé." Hutch rubbed his chin in thought. "Have you talked to her since the murder?"

"No," Gainer answered, "I called her when we found out Kirk had been killed. She was upset, so I've told her to stay home until I can talk to her this morning. Nobody at the store will be surprised at her calling in sick."

"Is your absence from the store covered?" Captain Pasquini asked Gainer.

"Yes, Sir. I'm running some personal errands for Mr. Liston." Gainer made it sound as if it were an errand of some importance and Hutch held back a groan.

"Picking up his laundry, huh?" Starsky asked with a slight smirk at Gainer's attitude, somehow picking up on his partner's thoughts.

Hutch flashed Starsky a quick 'hushing' glance, fighting to hide his own budding snicker.

Starsky just shrugged back with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Cap'n, would it be possible for Hutch and I to question Miss Sims?" Starsky looked toward the captain hopefully. "We'd both like to get a first-hand description of the lab Kirk worked in, since we may not be able to get close with our covers. We may be able to pick up something from all the gossip we've been hearin'."

"Maybe knowing we're around may make her feel a little safer," Hutch interjected. "If she knows Gainer is undercover and hasn't told anyone of his presence, then she should be able to handle us being in on the case." Hutch paused, trying to gauge the captain's reaction. "We may be able to find out something she neglected to tell Gainer." He received a dark look from the estranged detective.

"'Sides, Gainer will need to get back soon and we don't go on 'til 3:00 p.m." Starsky added hopefully.

Captain Pasquini, sat quietly for a moment, studying the detectives. He nodded slowly in Starsky's direction. "Let me check with Captain Lang first. His men may have already talked to her, or sent someone out." Pasquini dialed his counter-part quickly and presented the issue. After some give and take on both sides in a short conversation, Pasquini nodded to Starsky and Hutch. "Captain Lang has agreed to let you meet with Miss Sims because of your years in Homicide. Afterwards, you will immediately file a report and have it on his desk before your next shift and they will forward me a copy. Homicide will follow up on anything you may find. Her address is on file in the employee records."

Starsky jumped up quickly, grabbing a handful of Hutch's jacket and pulling him to his feet . "Thanks, Cap'n!" Starsky threw behind him as he headed out the door, pushing Hutch in front of him and leaving a burning Gainer alone with his captain.

It only took them a few minutes to get April's address and directions to the car impound. Hutch's car was located a few blocks away from the station in auxiliary storage. Once outside, Starsky took off in a brisk walk that even Hutch's long legs had trouble matching.

"Hey, slow down, Starsky," Hutch called to his jubilant partner, a smile tugging at his mouth. "This isn't a race to see who gets there first!" Hutch gave in to the grin, welcoming the obvious signs of a Starsky in hot pursuit.

"Finally, Hutch!" Starsky exclaimed gleefully. "Finally! Something we can actually do for a change. I know Gainer isn't givin' us anything that's not pulled outta him first and I'm tired of playin' beggar-boy to his prince. We're gonna take this case and crack it wide open, Hutch, I can feel it." His arms waved with enthusiasm, eyes alight with new energy.

"About time we did some real work on this case." Hutch replied, giving his partner a slap on the back. "Time to show this division that the real talent works at Metro." It felt good to hear Starsky's laugh in reply. He felt the same way. It was past time to wind this show up and go home.

***

April Sims' apartment was in the older, rundown part of town. There were barely any stores or business' left open in the area and more houses were empty than were lived in. Even with a map the two detectives had trouble, as most street signs were missing and house numbers non-existent. They were finally able to find her apartment, a second story unit in an older house, with its own stairway at the side of the old and tired house.

Both detectives brought out their ID's before knocking on the door.

It took a moment for April to come to the door. Behind the chain both detectives could see her look of shocked surprise as she recognized them.

"Sorry to bother you, Miss Sims." Starsky held up his ID so she could see it through the door opening. "We're Detectives Starsky and Hutchinson "Can we come in and talk to you for a moment?" He handed her his ID through the door so she could get a better look.

The door closed softly for a moment while April unlatched the chain. She held open the door and stood aside as the detectives entered the apartment.

It was one fairly small room. A delicate Japanese screen divided the back bed and bathroom area off from rest of the apartment. There was barely room for a sofa, bookcase and TV stand, but there was no crowded or cluttered look. A small, two-chair folding table was pushed up against one wall next to the small kitchenette. While the room could use an extra coat of paint, it was well kept and clean. Hutch noticed that the few pieces of furniture in the room showed an eye for design, color and practicality. On the blank wall above the small table were pinned sheets and sheets of paper, showing numerous drawings, all of them of various jewelry pieces. Hutch was impressed with the quality of the artwork. She does have an eye for detail and design, Hutch thought. Wally was right, she does have some natural talent.

April waved them over to the small couch, while she took one of the small kitchen chairs to sit in front of them. She had obviously been crying and looked tired and worn out.

"I know this is quite a shock for you Miss Sims," Hutch began quietly. He caught Starsky's nod to continue. "Detective Starsky and I have been working undercover at Iverson's, as you may have guessed by now. I know that Detective Gainer informed you of the death of Mr. Kirk." He waited while she nodded and wiped at her streaming eyes. "My partner, Detective Starsky and I thought it would be better if we came over and talked to you about your actions last night. Maybe you can help us find his killer."

Hutch waited for April to nod her head in agreement before taking out pad and pen. He nodded to Starsky to take over the conversation,.

"Could you please tell us of your movements yesterday, Miss Sims?" Starsky smiled kindly at her as he caught her eye. "We would just like to start with your actions for yesterday, if you don't mind

April nodded and took a ragged breath. "Yesterday I worked the 1:00 p.m. to 9:00 p.m. shift, like I usually do. I guess you know I work the Jewelry counter." She tried to smile back, biting her lip as more tears came. "I had a morning and an afternoon break and ate lunch in the cafeteria." She shrugged. "It was a normal day, as far as I could tell. It seemed a little slow, actually."

"We know you were friends with Mr. Kirk. Were you able to see him at all yesterday?" Starsky prodded gently.

April shook her head. "No. But Mr. Kirk and I weren't exactly friends. He was more my teacher than anything else. I met him a couple of years ago, when I was first hired at the store."

"Isn't it a bit unusual for the head of a department to take on a sales clerk as student?" Starsky asked.

April smiled a bit modestly at the pair. "I've always been interested in gems, jewelry and design. One day we had a custom ring order arrive for pickup at my counter. I had taken the original order for the piece and had one of Mr. Kirk's staff come up for a design consultation with the customer. I watched as he drew the design and took an order for the type of gem they wanted set in the ring. When the finished piece arrived, I couldn't help but check it and it was..." She hesitated, looking at the detectives, uncertain how to explain her reaction, "...it was wrong."

"Wrong?" Starsky repeated, waiting for April to continue.

"Yes." April nodded her head energetically. "I could tell it was 'off'. The original design was smooth and flowing, but the finished piece was heavy and off-balanced. The stone setting was slightly off-center at one end and the stone was not the quality ordered."

"You could tell all this just by looking at it?" Hutch asked in surprise.

"Well, no," April answered a bit embarassedly. "I took it out of the box when I saw it didn't look right. It didn't feel right either. I was supposed to call the customer and leave a message that it was ready. I couldn't, it wouldn't have been right. I called the Jewelry lab and had the designer come up. He was very upset with me and refused to discuss it. Mr. Kirk was called in and he examined the ring. He took the ring back with him downstairs." She sat for a minute and folded and unfolded her handkerchief for a moment. "I found out later the designer had been fired and Mr. Kirk personally reworked the ring from scratch. He came up a few days later and showed me the new ring for my 'personal stamp of approval' before we called the customer." She smiled at the memory. "I usually took my early break downstairs in the Jewelry lab and Mr. Kirk would let me watch while he worked on a piece, or planned out a design. Sometimes I helped out with small jobs. I plan on getting GIA certified as soon as I can save the money for the school. Mr. Kirk said I had a job with his department as soon as I got certified."

"GIA certified?" Starsky wondered aloud.

April nodded shyly. "It stands for the Gemological Institute of America. They have certain classes you must take to be certified. It's very prestigious and it's practically required for the better positions. I've been trying to save up enough to go. Once I get certified, I'll be qualified to work in the labs at Iverson's."

"When did you notice the problems starting with Mr. Kirk?" Hutch questioned, keeping his voice low and level.

April leaned back in her chair and wiped at her eyes, trying to concentrate. "I've gone over this once already with Detective Gainer." She whispered.

"I know, Ma'am," Starsky smiled encouragingly, "but we would really like to hear it again, from you."

"It was just before the first robbery," April sighed. "Iverson's had received some jewelry and loose gems in a shipment from Singapore. Mr. Kirk was spot checking gems and set stones for cut, color, clarity and carat weight. He also spot checked the quality of the metal used. You know, to make sure that the gold and silver were the same quality as the order specified. I always went to help him check the shipments during my break, along with the other lab workers. Later, after I got off of work I went back down to talk to Mr. Kirk, he was sorting the jewel drawers in the vault by branch destination. I was talking to him and walking around the vault when I spotted an item on a tray that looked strange. I had started to pick up a piece to examine when..." She sniffed, taking a second to compose herself, "...when Mr. Kirk jumped, like he'd been shocked and started yelling at me. He shooed me out and finished locking up the vault, even though he wasn't through sorting. He apologized afterwards." April broke in to fresh tears.

Hutch, touched by her mourning, leaned forward and patted her arm gently. "Lets just take a minute, April," He gave her a kind smile. Starsky had gone to the kitchenette and returned with a glass of water. April took a big breath and sipped at the water, giving Starsky a teary, but grateful smile.

"Later," she continued after a few moments, "we all heard about the robbery. I'm not sure, but I think the shipment that was stolen contained the set of trays that I was look at. After that, Mr. Kirk seemed more distant and nervous for weeks. Instead of working in the lab during my break, we started sitting in his office, having coffee and talking." She sighed again, rubbing at her forehead. "After the second robbery, he told me that he'd really rather I didn't come down anymore. He said that Ms. Quincy was throwing fits about my access to the labs. She didn't want anyone in the secure area who didn't actually work there. He met me upstairs for breaks for another week or so, then he quit coming altogether."

Hutch cleared his throat. "Miss Sims, do you know what was wrong with that first shipment you saw?"

"No, I'd just gotten that impression when I reached for it. I never got a chance to see anything else." She shrugged.

"Detective Gainer said that you came to the station to talk to him about Mr. Kirk." Starsky added.

"I was scared for him," she answered in a whisper. "I felt like he was in trouble and wanted to help. I told Detective Gainer about what had happened and that I felt that something horrible was going on. Mr. Kirk was such a nice person, so sweet and mild. I was afraid that he might have found something out about the robberies. I was hoping that if the police talked to him and offered to help protect him, then he would feel safe enough to tell what he knew. I got the impression that he was more and more frightened all the time."

"Why was that?" Starsky wondered aloud.

"He was very jumpy and while I was still taking breaks in his office, sometimes I'd open the door when he was concentrating on something on his desk and he would jump, startled, until he realized who it was. One evening I had stayed very late to help with some inventory and saw him standing by the employees' exit. Wally Kraft was coming out of the break room and Mr. Kirk talked to him for a moment and they both left. Later I asked Wally if Mr. Kirk was okay and he said that Kirk just wanted him to walk him to his car. Wally said he usually walked Mr. Kirk to his car before coming back from break and had been doing it for a few weeks. I've never known Mr. Kirk to be so skittish before."

As April studied her handkerchief, Starsky caught Hutch's eye and nodded slightly toward the door. Time to call it quits and let the poor girl rest, Hutch thought, agreeing with his partner's intentions. She's not going anywhere, at least not anytime soon. Hutch nodded to his partner.

"I think that's all we need for right now, Miss Sims." Starsky rose and took April's hand. "We'll contact you if we need to talk to you again. Please remember that if you see us at Iverson's, we are still working undercover." He gave her a kind smile.

"I don't think I'll be in for a few days," April said, looking tired and worn. "I'm not sure I want to come back now."

***

Starsky and Hutch had made the supreme sacrifice and had gone straight to the station-house to produce Captain Lang's report. They were told that Homicide Detectives Phillips and Sanders were in charge of the murder investigation and they were to keep them fully informed. In the future they could report either in person to Homicide or through Captains Lang and Pasquini. This way they wouldn't have to worry about catching each other at the station, or stumbling over each other at the store. But it also means we now have two captains to please, Hutch sighed. I feel like a ping-pong ball.

After the drudge work, they decided that they just had time to go by their bank and deposit their paychecks. While they usually worked only off the department's money, it didn't make any sense to alert the payroll department that someone wasn't bothering to cash their checks. Not when it's the whole store you're trying to fool. They then stopped back by their apartment to eat and freshen up before their Friday night shift started. They had talked over April's statement in the car and had not seen anything that had not been included in Gainer's report.

"I can't help it, Hutch," Starsky said, eating his lunch at the kitchen sink. "I just got the feelin' Gainer ain't telling everythin' he knows. Not to us, 'n not to Pasquini."

"He probably isn't." Hutch commented, still dressing after his shower. "But you couldn't prove it by us. I wouldn't get too excited, Starsk. We can't do much while we're stuck in those green suits. I'm pretty sure we're not going to find out too much on this late shift either. Maybe we ought to get the Captain Pasquini to talk to Mr. Collins and get us on dayshift. Bypass Gainer and Ms. Quincy all together. That'll take a few days, so we can finish up on nights. I just don't think we're going to find anyone here that knows anything."

Starsky had agreed with his partner and they decided to push the conversation tonight, see if anyone knew anything they weren't telling to local cops. They called Captain Pasquini and asked him about getting transferred to the dayshift. He agreed with their reasoning and decided to call Mr. Collins himself.

The mood at the lockers and time clock that evening was quiet and subdued. The local detectives had interviewed many employees and word had traveled that the police were looking inside the store for suspects. At first the other employees were guarded and silent around the undercover detectives, everyone knowing when and where the body had been found. But by the first dinner break curiosity managed to break through and Hutch found himself the center of attention.

Hutch fielded questions from the other guards about finding the body. He was convincingly vague, not wanting to give out any crime scene details they could use later. About all he could tell them was he and Dave had thought they saw something under the car and there it was. Hutch didn't have to add any drama to the story to keep everyone's open-mouthed attention.

Wally sat through the whole thing quietly, his arms folded, staring at the table. He didn't seem too interested in his dinner. Hutch watched him surreptitiously. The other guards acted surprised and astonished at the murder, but no one seemed to have anything new to add besides wild conjecture and pointless gossip. Wally was definitely acting subdued. Looks like Wally needs to talk, Hutch sighed to himself. He's always seemed like a good kid. I hope he's not into anything deeper than he can handle.

Hutch had been paired with Saputo for the evening and Wally was paired with Jefferson, so Hutch would have to make contact with Wally in some less obvious way. On the way back to his floor, Hutch stopped by Starsky's floor and quickly told him of Wally's actions during break.

"I think he knows something, Starsk," Hutch whispered. "We need to talk to him, but we need to keep it low-key. Maybe we can snag him after work," Hutch wondered aloud. "But it's going to be tough, Wally isn't the gabby kind and he's pretty much a homebody. We need something to convince him to indulge in some friendly conversation."

"No problem," Starsky answered, flashing him a mischievous smile. "I think I've got the answer to that."

"Oh yeah? What are you going to do?" Hutch asked suspiciously. He knew better than to trust that smile any farther than he could throw his heavy partner.

"Just wait and follow my lead," Starsky replied with a Cheshire-cat grin. "But you'd better get back to work before you're missed. I'll take care of Wally." And with that Starsky waved him away, saying no more.

 

SATURDAY

The store's closing went normally for a Friday evening and midnight shift arrived subdued, but on time. Both detectives made good time to the locker room and Starsky had just enough time to whisper to Hutch, 'Follow my lead.' before they were crowded by the evening shift. It seemed no one wanted to walk out by themselves and the entire shift managed to leave for the parking lot as a group.

It was another dark, cool night. The departing shift waved good-bye and talked loudly, obviously trying not to glance beyond the dark or think about the body from the night before. Starsky elbowed Hutch and nodded toward Wally. Hutch's glance took in the young man, hands on hips, his big bulk radiating disbelief.

Starsky nodded a 'come on' to his partner and walked over to where Wally was standing.

"Got a problem, Wally?" Starsky asked cheerfully.

"Yeah," Wally replied, running a large hand over his head. "I got one spare and two flats. What the hell happened?" Wally bent over to examine the tires, running his hands over the sides, looking for a hole or leak.

"Could be anything, Wally," Starsky said, bending down beside Wally to take a look at a tire. "Maybe you just have a leaky valve. Don't see any obvious holes anywhere, but it's kinda dark to be sure. I think you just need some air. Need a lift?"

"Thanks, guys," Wally paused a moment, then smiled at the two men apologetically, "but I live way out of on the other side of town, I know it's gotta be way out of your way." He glanced around the quickly emptying lot and shrugged helplessly.

"No problem, Wally. We're in no hurry." Hutch chimed in, with a knowing look at Starsky. I'd bet a month's salary that my partner knows exactly what's wrong with Wally's tires, Hutch though, suppressing an amused smile.

Wally followed them to Hutch's car and Starsky took a back seat, tossing over just enough of Hutch's current junk collection to be able to sit with his feet on the floorboard.

"Be glad you're in the front Wally," Starsky murmured in disgust, surveying the clutter. "I think there's spiders and rats back here."

"Where to, Wally?" Hutch asked loudly, ignoring his partner's remarks.

Wally gave an amused glance at Starsky and gave Hutch quick and concise directions.

"Hey, Wally," Starsky said quietly after a few quiet moments. "I guess you must be really bummed about Kirk's death." In the rearview, Hutch saw his partner lean forward, propping his head and arms on the front seat. "I'd heard you knew the guy pretty well."

Wally shrugged, moving sideways in the passenger seat, turning to face the other two men. Wally's face, lit with the strobe-light effect of the passing street lights, took on a sad expression. "I knew him just enough to be respectful, since he was one of the big-shots. He sure was a strange old guy though. He seemed to be kinda a loner and usually didn't give any of the employees the time of day, except for..." Wally trailed off, a hint of embarrassment in his voice.

Starsky grinned at the large youth. "Except pretty Miss Sims."

Wally smiled bashfully. "Yeah, well.... Mr. Kirk seemed to be real nice to her for awhile. I guess they must have had an argument or somethin', 'cause I know she wasn't going down to the Jewelry lab anymore. I could tell she was real upset about that."

"You talk to him very much?" Hutch asked, eyes on the unfamiliar traffic. "He must have been a hard person to get to know."

"I'd never talk to the man, 'til a couple of weeks ago, but I knew who he was," Wally answered. "Then when I was returning from break one evening, he suddenly came up to me and started making conversation. Acted like he was interested in me personally or something and wanted to talk on the way to his car. He did all the talking, goin' a mile a minute. I got the feeling he was scared of somethin' and just wanted someone to walk him outside." Wally shrugged. "If he'd just wanted a bodyguard, it would've been no skin off my nose. Happy to do it. I just got the feeling he didn't want to admit being scared. No shame in a guy his age bein' scared of a dark lot." Wally paused and a sad look played across his features. "Looks like he sure had something to be scared of, doesn't it."

"Did you walk him out after that first time?" Starsky asked quietly. "Sounds like he was pretty worried."

"Yeah, anytime I had early break and a couple of times I had meals." Wally responded. "I'd see him hanging round the back door like he was waitin' for me and I'd go to say 'hi'. I'd walk him to his car and see him off."

"Ever see anyone hanging around outside when he left?" Hutch asked.

"Nah, the cops asked me that already and I can't say that I did." Wally flashed them an embarrassed smile. "At least, no strangers. Some of the top brass stay late once in awhile and I've seen them all come and go at one point or another. Anyway, I didn't see Kirk at all last night, so I'm wasn't much help to the police." Wally sighed. "Can't say as I'm sorry to have missed the action, but kinda feel like I let the old guy down, as if I should'a seen him or somethin' last night."

Conversation lagged for a few minutes and they all watched as the business districts slowly turned residential, each man quite with their own thoughts.

The robberies started three months ago, Hutch calculated, running the timeline through his mind. April saw Kirk acting strange after the second shipment, two months ago. Gainer joined the case not long after that, about six weeks. We've been here about a month and Kirk suddenly felt the need for a body guard two weeks ago and yesterday he was killed. A nice steady progression. Now if we could just figure out where the hell all this is going!

"Why would any of the big-shots stay late?" Hutch asked, fishing for more information. "I thought with jobs like theirs, they'd head on home pretty early." Hutch flashed Wally a grin, as if just trying to make conversation. "I know I'd beat it outta there as early as possible if I were on salary."

Wally grinned. "Well, I figure that some of them aren't stayin' for work."

Hutch caught Starsky's glance in the rearview mirror. Something new?

"Oh yeah?" Starsky grinned. "You mean there's somethin' goin' on we haven't heard about yet? Must be something really good if it hasn't made the rounds yet."

"Well, a guys sees things, here and there," Wally replied with a shrug. "I once saw Ms. Quincy and Mr. Jameson sittin' in the same car once. Kinda looked red-faced and jumpy, like they didn't expect anyone to see them. I thought they'd been necking or something."

"No foolin'?" Starsky asked, his eyes wide. "I'm surprised any guy would wanna cuddle up to her. I'd bet a week's pay she bites."

"Well, you never know." Wally chuckled. "I didn't actually see anything, but I remember it real well, 'cause I was walking Mr. Kirk out to his car and he was lookin' around like he was checking the place out. He froze and looked shocked and when I looked I saw those two sittin' in Mr. Jameson's car, over in the dark part of the lot. Mr. Jameson never parks anywhere but his reserved space, except that once. I figured the two of them must of been wantin' a little privacy." Wally smiled again. "I guess Mr. Kirk musta got a good look at 'em doing somethin' interestin'."

"Do you think those two are hot'n'heavy for real?" Hutch glanced at Wally. "I can't imagine the 'Ice Queen' being sweet on anyone."

Wally shifted again on the lumpy seat. "I know I've seen Mr. Jameson out in the lot once or twice since I started walkin' Mr. Kirk out, but he was by himself. I don't know if Ms. Quincy is sweet on him or not, but he sure would be a rung up on her career ladder. Must be a big secret if the story hasn't made the store rounds yet."

"Here we are." Hutch suddenly announced, pulling up in front of a very nice two-story house. Too bad he couldn't have been another ten minutes away, Hutch thought. This was getting interesting.

"Thanks guys," Wally said gratefully as he climbed out of the car. "It really would have been a hassle for my Dad to have come to get me this time of night. He's too old for night drivin' anymore, so I sure appreciate the ride."

"Anytime, Wally, anytime." Hutch smiled in reply.

Starsky started climbing out of the back seat. "Need any help with your tires tomorrow?" he asked the young guard. "We could pick you up tomorrow and help you get the tires checked out."

"No, thanks," Wally replied with a shrug. "My dad and I can run down and check them out before work tomorrow. I don't have any classes, so there's no hurry."

"You sure?" Hutch asked, hoping the kids wasn't just being nice.

"Nah, I've got it covered," Wally smiled at the two and patted the passenger door as Starsky closed it. "See you guys later." He waved and disappeared into the darkness toward home.

"You know, Starsky, he'd have been a lot less appreciative if he'd known who it was who drained his tires," Hutch remarked after getting the LTD turned around. "If he had seen you out there, messing with his car after a parking lot murder, Wally would have turned you into pulp, partner."

"It got us our interview didn't it?" Starsky replied, a smug look on his face. "No one saw me and all he needs is a little air. Besides, I've got a partner who would have jumped in to save my ass, with all those fancy wrestling moves he keeps harping on."

"Which would have been a little hard this time around, since I wouldn't have known your ass was in trouble," Hutch replied evenly. He knew Starsky wouldn't have taken any more chances than he had to, but it didn't hurt to remind him to be careful. "So, how come we haven't heard more scuttle-butt about this Quincy-Jameson thing," Hutch wondered. "I can't imagine anyone getting on the good side of the Ice Queen and it not being hailed as a miracle," Hutch muttered sarcastically, almost to himself. "And I don't see what she thinks she can get out of Jameson."

Starsky smiled at his partner. "Now, now Hutch. Don't be mean. Just because she has an allergy to tall, introspective blondes with seedy mustaches, that doesn't mean she's not human. Just that she has discriminating tastes."

"It was not 'seedy', Starsky," Hutch replied more sharply than he had intended. "And just because you'd look like Groucho Marx with one doesn't mean that everyone else does."

"Hey, I'm a detective, I'm trained to notice those sorts of things." Starsky flashed him a crooked grin. "You know, physical quirks and odd personality traits. Just 'cause the rest of us are too nice to say anything..." Starsky trailed off, turning serious for a moment. "So, who do you think Kirk was more afraid of, Quincy or Jameson?"

"If it was one of those two, it's gotta be Jameson." Hutch responded instantly. "He's the secretary to Kirk's boss. Jameson could make trouble for Kirk, dig into the employee files and even make changes if he wanted to. Quincy, on the other hand, doesn't have anything to do with the jewelry transportation, just in-store security. I wouldn't see her as being danger to Kirk, although she could have been a thorn in his side, if she could get April kicked out of the secure areas."

"If Kirk was sellin' out his employers, he might have been afraid that in-store security was hot on his trail." Starsky pointed out. "Of course, it could have been the two of them as a team that Kirk was scared of."

The two men sat in companionable silence, each working the new facts into their own perspective the case.

"I don't think he was selling out." Hutch began, a few minutes later. "If he was the source of the security leaks, why would he be so jumpy? There wouldn't be any evidence lying around to implicate him if he was just passing along the information. Kirk was scared, I'm convinced of that. And Wally would have made a good body guard. Few people would want to start anything with him around. What happened two weeks ago that got Kirk frightened all of a sudden?"

"Well," Starsky began. "We know that April saw something, or Kirk thought she saw something she shouldn't have. Then she gets kicked out of the labs. She goes to Gainer for help, he gets undercover, then we get pulled in. After that, who knows? We sure don't." Starsky finished with a frustrated sigh. "Who the hell knows what Gainer has on this case."

Hutch pulled the LTD up into a spot near their apartment. He turned the engine off and fought to catch a stray though.

Starsky sat still, watching his partner, waiting for him to make a move. After a moment, when Hutch showed no sign of stirring, Starsky settled back in his corner of the car, apparently willing to wait.

"You know, Starsk," Hutch said, "It just doesn't make sense. If we take it for granted that April did see something in that shipment and what she saw was in the shipment that got stolen, then what was there for April to see?"

"Expensive jewelry was bought, delivery accepted, then they were sorted and shipped," Starsky replied, going over the process. "April sees something 'strange' with one of the pieces. They were later stolen. The store's insurance wants an investigation and the police want the thieves and the security guard's killer. There is a lot there we know for a fact, but we're taking April's word for what she saw and why she came into Robbery in the first place. She could be in on this Hutch, or she just could have been wrong about..."

"Wrong..." Hutch snapped his fingers, "...it was wrong, like that first piece she saw. April didn't have the inventory with her, so she couldn't spot a piece that was too good, she would just assume that they were all as ordered. And the same with a sub-standard piece. She would just assume that it was just one of the lower grades of merchandise that the store stocks. But if it was a fake it could have been like a spotlight to her, if she's really is that good."

"Fake?" Starsky looked startled. "But fakes wouldn't get past the lab technicians, let alone..."

"...Kirk." Hutch finished for him. "Kirk was in charge of the lab and in checking the incoming merchandise. He assigned the technicians who handled the incoming stuff and was even known to do a lot of the work himself. He was nervous and he knew how good April was. He was the one who kicked her out of the lab, after all those months of giving her access. He saw her spot the fakes and when he panicked it distracted her. She didn't have enough time to realize what the problem was. Kirk tried to cover for her, keep her from getting too close to the next shipments. If the pieces really were fake it would explain why..."

"...we haven't seen the hot stuff get fenced anywhere." Starsky finished. "'Cause they aren't any good to start with." Starsky took a big breath, shaking his head. "It doesn't quite jell Hutch. Why would anyone go to all that trouble to steal worthless stuff? You know as well as I do that the merchandise could all be on its way overseas. And one big buyer could handle the lot 'n sit on it forever if they needed to. We might not see any of the stuff show up for years."

"But then, what would April have seen?" Hutch asked, frustrated.

"We're taking it on faith that Kirk really did think April was that good and that there was something for her to notice," Starsky replied reluctantly. "All we know for sure was that Kirk was actin' strange enough that some of the other employees noticed it too, 'n he was killed. We can't afford to count anyone out at this point, Hutch," Starsky said quietly.

I know, Starsk, I hear you, Hutch thought at the silent reminder in Starsky's voice. April could be involved in this, deeper than we know. But I believe her, buddy. I really do.

The both went quiet again. Hutch felt tired, but couldn't give it up quite yet. "If Kirk was involved, it could be for one of three reasons." Hutch added thoughtfully. "Kirk could have been blackmailed to mess with the jewelry, paid to do it, or he just flat out ran into something he wasn't supposed to find." He sighed. "It still sounds to me like he was trying to get April away from the action. Keeping her out of it. You just don't dump your protégé like that, for no reason." Hutch didn't realize that he had been drumming his fingers and staring at the near deserted street until Starsky cleared his throat noisily, making Hutch jump.

"Hutch," Starsky began solemnly, leaning over and patting his partner's knee affectionately. "There's only one thing about this case that I'm absolutely, positively certain of right now."

"Oh Yeah? What's that?" Hutch asked curiously.

As if on cue, Starsky's stomach rumbled loudly and he gave Hutch a serious look. "It's time to eat." And having gained the last word in the conversation, Starsky opened the car door, got out and waited for his partner to follow him home.

***

At 10:00 a.m. Saturday morning the detectives were back in Captain Pasquini's office with Gainer. Homicide had little positive to share so far. The last time Douglas Kirk had been seen on Thursday night was at 6:30 p.m. when the last of the lab technicians had left for the day. He had not been seen in the break room and no one had noticed him leaving. Forensics reported that Kirk had been killed with a sharp blow to the forehead with a rock found pitched to the outer side of the fence. The first blow would have rendered the man unconscious, the second had been fatal. The other blow were literally 'over kill'.

So far, there was nothing in Kirk's history to indicate that he spent more than he earned. He lived simply, sending a modest amount to his ex-wife as alimony payments, his children being too old to require child support and had a simple savings plan that he seemed to keep religiously. Every penny of the man's money seemed to be accounted for. Nothing in his apartment showed any signs of anything amiss. Which didn't rule out blackmail, or that he might have been expecting his payoff at a later date.

And none of it points us in any direction at all, Hutch mused, glancing over the various reports. Unless you consider that the killer must have liked crushing in a guy's face. And how many guys like that have Starsky and I run into our whole career? An easy hundred or so, at least.

The Metro detectives had reported their conversation with Wally Kraft and their suspicions that he had been fearful of Jameson and Quincy. Gainer had seemed to take the news in stride, acting as if he was not in the least interested.

"Did you know about this?" Starsky asked Gainer quietly. His eyes boring into the back of the man's head. "Are they an item? Could they be working together? Have you found anything you think Hutch and I might need to know?"

Hutch watched closely as Starsky got up and walked past him to stand beside Gainer. Hutch could almost see Starsky's frustration radiating off of him and he knew his friend was tired of being ignored.

Don't blow your cool, Starsk, Hutch thought to him. I'll bet you a month's pay he won't look you in the eye. He's too remote to play that kind of game with us. You're not going to get anything and it'll just make Pasquini mad. Hutch consciously relaxed in his chair, knowing Starsky would read the signal.

"I had thought that something strange was going on with Quincy and Jameson." Gainer responded vaguely, not looking at the dark-haired Metro detective. "But I'm still looking into the rumor. And so far, that's all it is, a store rumor. Gossip." Gainer said with distaste, clearing showing just what he thought of their source of information.

"Do you have anything hard on either one?" Captain Pasquini asked harshly. "Anything that Starsky and Hutchinson could look into?" He didn't look pleased with his detectives obvious attitude.

"No, not yet." Gainer answered reluctantly. He pointedly ignored Starsky, who had not backed off from his confrontational position. "I've been keeping an eye on Jameson and his files, but he's pretty closed mouthed about the whole system. I guess he's afraid I'm after his job and doesn't want to let me in on the finer details. He's not much of a team player."

Hutch flashed a 'Gee, who else do we know like that?' look at his partner, trying to lighten the mood.

Gosh, I don't know. Who? Starsky's eyes flashed back, eyes wide with mock seriousness.

"Come on, Gainer, what makes you think Jameson is in on anything?" Hutch asked patiently, as if talking to a child. "What are you looking for in his files? You must have some reason to have singled him out in this case. Or are we all just wasting our time?"

"It's just a feeling." Gainer turned blank-faced, choosing to acknowledge Hutch's presence rather than talk to the window again. "I don't have anything substantial or concrete to report, as of yet. I need a better look at the company files and Jameson's access to them," he finished, turning back to the window, effectively shutting Hutch out again. Starsky hadn't even rated a glance.

"Starsky, sit down," Captain Pasquini ordered tiredly. He waited until Starsky had walked back to sit beside his partner, his eyes never leaving the Robbery Detective.

"I've talked to Royston Collins and he has agreed to make arrangements for at least one of you to be transferred to dayshift," Captain Pasquini continued. "Mr. Collins is not sure he can get you both transferred without causing some major speculation within the store, but he'll try. I don't know which one it will be. Do you have any preference?"

Both detectives looked at each other and shrugged. "It doesn't matter to us, Captain," Starsky answered.

"Then I'll leave it up to their system," Captain Pasquini decided. "You will probably find out about it on your next shift, unless they contact you earlier. While Gainer is working on the office details, I want you two to keep a close eye on Quincy and Jameson. See if they are an item, where they go and all that. If you see anything that warrants further investigation, I will see if we can assign permanent tails on them. But I'm very close to shutting down this operation, gentlemen." Captain Pasquini gave them all a serious look. "We have not made any progress in this case so far and we cannot continue this indefinitely. Unless we make some headway, very soon, then I will turn all reports over to Homicide and let them decide how to proceed. We need a break in this case, people, but do not," Captain Pasquini stated emphatically, jabbing his pencil at Starsky and Hutch in emphasis, "I repeat, do not put yourself in any dangerous situations or hesitate to call for back up."

"Sure Cap'n," Starsky replied with a smile, "we are very careful people."

"Better be," Captain Pasquini said gruffly, his lips twitching into a small smile, "I wouldn't want to explain to Captain Dobey how I lost him two men. That man is mean when riled." And with that he dismissed the three.

"Well, that was fun," Hutch commented while unlocking the LTD. "Nothing like being reminded how useless you've been for a month. Where to now, Tonto?" Hutch asked Starsky as he unlocked the passenger door.

"I keep tellin' ya, you're Tonto," Starsky replied. "And this car ain't Silver. It wouldn't even make a good broken-down wagon let alone a decent horse. What say we find out what Jameson and Quincy do on their weekends?"

"Which one first?"

"Neither one is working today," Starsky replied thoughtfully. "Let's go find Jameson first, he's higher up on the rung."

Hutch pulled out into the busy Saturday traffic while Starsky pinpointed the address on the city map. It was an expensive condo complex with an ocean view and large, manicured lawns. Jameson's address was on the lower level in a corner building. His assigned car space was empty.

"Wait or move on?" Starsky asked, drumming his finger impatiently on the door handle.

Hutch frowned uncertainly. Jameson could be out anywhere and waiting all day could be a tremendous waste of time. "Let's drive by Quincy's place and get the layout. I'd hate to blow the whole day sitting here." Even with the expensive ocean view.

They drove back into the center of town and found that Quincy's address. It was located in a large, but less expensive apartment complex. Her apartment was on a high floor and her parking place was also empty.

"Not cheap," Starsky remarked, looking over the area. "But you'll notice she's not quite up there with Jameson. Do we know what Jameson's salary is? His condo's more than a few steps above this and I wouldn't think a secretary would make that much more than handling in-store security."

"No idea," Hutch replied, with a sigh. "Let's put that as question one hundred and one for our grilling of Gainer during the next meeting."

"Hey, let's grab some lunch and head on back to the store," Starsky said with sudden interest, eyeing the local taco chain sitting on the corner. "Maybe one of them is putting in some overtime."

No way, Hutch thought, pretending he hadn't seen his partner's look of longing. There's got to be something better than tacos around. Especially if I'm going to be stuck in this car all day. He was rewarded with a dark look and some mumbling about 'who'd be the passenger when the Torino was back in action'.

It was not to be, however, as Hutch ended up staring at a greasy taco wrapper filled with a warm lump that was his dinner. They had found Jameson's car in the store lot. Hutch had just had enough time to park out of view when Jameson's entered his car and left the lot. Unfortunately, at one stop Jameson had been gone long enough for Starsky to dart out and grab a bag of Mexican food at a forlorn little taco shack. Hutch had wavered between giving up the greasy mess and passing it over to his partner, who was eyeing it hungrily, or eating it just to spite him. But he had waited too long and Starsky had grabbed the taco and eaten it anyway, to save him from 'dumping the thing in your lap.'

The detectives spent the evening hours following Jameson from one expensive store to another. He returned from some empty-handed, but from the majority he left with merchandise, carefully stored in the trunk of his car. On his return to his condo, Hutch was lucky to find a spot in the shade of the opposite garage. The two watched Jameson unpack the car. The man never even glanced their way.

"Jameson sure knows how to spend a paycheck," Hutch remarked, relaxing back into the seat. "You notice that while he works at one medium-to-high priced store, he himself shops at several very expensive specialty shops. Only the best in clothes, shoes and jewelry."

"And he drives a car that is the top-of-the-line for that model." Starsky remarked, obviously thinking the same thing his partner was. "The man likes to live high. Hutch, I don't think a man in his position earns enough legit to sustain such an 'altitude'. The man's getting money from somewhere."

"Maybe he's got rich parents," Hutch wondered aloud. "Or maybe a wealthy relative died. Do you think Gainer has noticed?"

Starsky frowned at his partner. "I'll bet you my lousy pay he did. Probably why he's sure Jameson's got something to do with the robberies. Nice of him to tip us off on who to watch for."

"Yeah, he's such a sweetheart," Hutch said sarcastically. "Bet he gets voted Cop-of-The-Year in his department."

The partners settled down into the shadows. The evening came on slowly and Hutch found himself wishing he had eaten that taco. He made do with his sack of raisin, sunflower and unsalted peanut mix he kept stuffed in the glove compartment. It was one of the few snacks he could keep around safely, as Starsky wouldn't touch it no matter how starved he was.

Twilight came and darkness fell. Several quiet hours had passed when a tall shadow appeared suddenly near the front of Jameson's building. It was male shaped, dressed in torn jeans, sneakers and a stained sweat jacket with hood pulled up over his head. He'd been just visible in the glow of the building's security lights as he had left the archway. The man made no move toward the cars parked in the area, but paced back and forth on the dark sidewalk

"Vagrant, maintenance or gardener?" Hutch wondered out loud. "He's sure not dressed for this area at this time of day."

"Hey, Hutch!" Starsky whispered excitedly, nodding toward the pacing man. "That's him!"

"Aaron Jameson?" Hutch leaned forward over the steering wheel, trying to get a better look at the pacing man. "How can you tell?"

"It's his build, his walk," Starsky replied ecstatically, leaning into the windshield. "He doesn't walk like someone in tennis shoes. He's taking small steps and he's too stiff when he moves, formal, like royalty or somethin'. I've been watchin' him all afternoon, Hutch. I know it's him!"

"Well," Hutch grinned, starting the LTD, "looks like we're slummin' tonight, Starsky. No fancy clothes or car. Think we're dressed for the occasion?"

Starsky glanced at their attire and grinned back. "If it's down and dirty, we'll fit in fine."

It was only a few minutes later that a Yellow Cab pulled up and their man got in.

It was a long ride and must have cost Jameson quite a bit, Hutch thought, as their destination took them to the busy red-light district. It was a crowded Saturday night, the streets were packed with cars and jay-walkers and the sidewalks were jammed with people and vibrating with noise. The bright neon lights made this part of the city almost as bright as day. The cab drove down the main strip for awhile, seemingly in no hurry. Hutch was taken by surprise when the taxi double parked in front of one of the adult bookstores and Jameson slipped out and into the store.

Hutch was stuck three cars behind at a stop light. The second the cab door opened Starsky moved. The detective got out in traffic, leaving Hutch at the light. Starsky walked down the sidewalk, hands in pockets, towards the store that Jameson had entered.

After an endless trip around the block, Hutch was able to snag a spot by a hydrant about three car lengths beyond the store. Better make this quick, Starsk, he thought. All I need is a black-and-white to spot me here and write me up.

Hutch debated on leaving the engine running, but decided against it. He might need to take off on foot. He angled himself sideways in the front seat, keeping an eye on the busy sidewalk and the front of the adult novelty store. Midnight Sexpress huh? he thought with amusement. Well, that's a bit more creative than most.

After ten minutes and three propositions from the local working girls, Hutch was about to abandon the car and stroll by the shop when his partner came jogging out of the store. It only took Starsky a second to scan the street and spot the LTD. Hutch started the car as soon as he saw his partner. Starsky's ready to roll, he knew with a glance.

"Down the alley! Hurry!" Starsky threw at him before the detective was even halfway into the car.

Hutch gunned the motor and forced his way into traffic by sheer determination. By long experience he knew that no one would argue with a scraped and dented two-tone car for possession of the street. And that's more than a certain Tomato's paint-job can boast, he thought with a touch of smugness. Hutch pulled into the alley Starsky indicated, barely clearing trash-lined walls. He turned off the headlights and slowed the car down to a quiet crawl.

"It's Jameson all right. He got a glimpse of me but didn't know me." Starsky leaned forward anxiously in the dark car, a bit breathless. "He hung around the toy department for awhile, but was trying to get the clerk's attention. The clerk acted like he knew him, but wasn't happy to see him."

Hutch had come to the end of the alley and could see a parking lot open up behind the buildings. He stopped before the car reached the edge, keeping in the shadows and used his emergency break so the brake lights wouldn't show.

"When the payin' customers left 'n all that was left was us browsers, the clerk went with him to the back rooms," Starsky whispered hurriedly. "I ducked into the back 'n listen at the door and they started arguin'. Jameson sounded scared and the clerk sounded pissed. Jameson apparently wanted an escort somewhere, had to see someone. The clerk finally told him to go out the back and wait for his ride. Then I split, almost had me." Starsky's eyes glowed with the close call.

"Better look and see if he's still there," Hutch replied softly. "We can't afford to lose him now."

Starsky was up and out of the car like a shadow, Hutch having long ago taken the bulb out of the dome light. Starsky moved so quietly and so swiftly that Hutch had trouble making out his partner's outline. Starsky edged to the corner of the building, squatted and peeked around the edge below eye level. A minute passed, then he turned and carefully picked his way to the passenger door.

"He's there," Starsky whispered breathlessly, leaning bodily into the window. "There's no light, but you can see him movin' around. He's pacin', waitin' for his ride. Man, we could be parked in the way here," he added worriedly.

"No, I don't think so, Starsk," Hutch answered. "I've been around the block. I think this lot's connected to a larger one around the side of that building, with better street access. I think they'll come in that way." Hutch shrugged helplessly. "I've got to park somewhere, Starsky."

"'Kay, I'll keep an eye out." And with that Starsky made his way back to the edge of the building.

They kept their silent positions for about ten minutes before Hutch saw his partner tense. Straining his ears over his own car's idle and the background noise, Hutch could make out the sound of a car approaching.

Starsky held up a hand, warning him. Then suddenly the curly-haired detective was diving into the car. "Cream colored, Dodge."

Hutch pulled the car into the small lot and around the building corner. He could just make out the tail-end of the Dodge heading up the street. Hutch again forced his way into the busy traffic a few car lengths down from their target and proceeded to follow the car.

"Did he say what he wanted this meet for?" Hutch asked, tearing his focus from the Dodge. Starsky was watching just as close. "Any idea what's going on?"

"No, nothing specific." Starsky answered. "Just that he had to see 'Him' again. Jameson really wanted to talk. The clerk didn't think it was a good idea, but Jameson insisted. Gee, Hutch," Starsky flashed a quick grin at his partner, "think we've got a live one here?"

"Could be, buddy, could be." Hutch answered. He grinned, feeling alive with the thrill of the chase. We're finally getting somewhere. Can't lose him now!

They followed the cream colored Dodge out of the red-light district and toward the outskirts of town. It was a newer area, a higher-class bar, club and theater district. Hutch knew of it as a place for the youthful rich, where you could find the same cheap thrills and women that the red-light district boasted, but here they were dressed in fancier clothes, were more costly and of a better grade. The neon lights were a bit less gaudy, the streets crowded with expensive cars, but these sidewalks were mostly empty. The majority of the action took place within the various night clubs and discos in the area and few stooped to walking any distance.

The Dodge slowed noticeably in front of The Rocket, but bypassed the waiting doorman and parking lot attendants. The driver pulled around the back and Hutch was forced to pull around the corner so that he wouldn't be seen. The blond found a spot where they could see the rear entrance. Starsky had not taken his eyes off the Dodge.

"They pulled up to the back door and two big guys dragged Jameson in," Starsky said, filling him in. Hutch could see that the Dodge was still by the employee entrance.

"So, why the ratty get-up?" Hutch asked his partner, settling back into the driver's seat. "Why couldn't he just dress up and walk into the front door? He's apparently got enough money to afford the membership."

"I guess you don't drop in on Mr. Big unless specifically invited and escorted." Starsky answered. "Whoever he is, he must be a cautious man. Could be that Jameson has been ordered not to show his face around here, so he had to get special permission. Any idea on who Mr. Big might be?"

Hutch drummed his fingers on the car door, concentrating. "I'm not sure, Starsk. I think maybe I've heard something about The Rocket in passing, maybe on one of our other cases." He sighed in frustration. "Besides the fact that we probably couldn't afford the membership, I can't think of anything else about the place."

"Gee, Hutch, here we are, all these miles from our usual beat and you don't have all the crime lords' names and address' memorized yet?" Starsky smiled to himself. "You are getting old."

Hutch flashed him a teasing look. "Hey, last I looked you were still the eldest of this duo, pal. Better watch who you're calling old around here, or on your next birthday I'll be sure to buy enough candles to make my point. You wouldn't want to burn Huggy's place down, would you?"

Starsky stayed silent for a few minutes, eyes on the Dodge. He sighed, frowning to himself. "Sometimes it feels like I'm old, Hutch. A few years ago I'd be out there connin' my way past the doorman and lookin' to rattle the bear's cage, just to see what the bear could do about it. Now I'm just content to sit in a parked car and watch to see what the bear does when someone else rattles the cage." Starsky looked at Hutch and Hutch could see the doubt in his eyes. "It that gettin' old?"

"Starsk," Hutch answered quietly, "we've damn near lived in that stinking bear cage since the day we left the academy. We've both got the scars to prove it. I'd say it's not getting old, it's just remembering that we're the zoo keepers and we know damn well what the bear's going to do. So, we sit back, stay away from its paws and only go in when we have control and backup. Besides," Hutch gave his partner a meaningful look, "we're a little out of our league here, this isn't even our zoo."

Starsky opened his mouth to reply when the back door of The Rocket opened. The two burly men lead a shaky looking Jameson into the Dodge and the driver pulled away.

"Looks like Mr. Jameson may not have gotten what he wanted." Hutch commented, pulling the car in line behind the Dodge. "Whatever he was after, looks like the answer was 'no'."

"Well, tomorrow we'll corner Gainer and find out what he knows about The Rocket and Jameson's spending habits." Starsky replied with irritation. "Maybe it's time the good detective learned to share the fun."

Hutch followed the Dodge back to the red-light district, where Jameson was taken to the back parking lot of the adult store and roughly dumped. Jameson then caught a cab. The detectives followed the cab back to Jameson's condo and they watched as the apartment lights, left on for the evening, blinked out.

"Well, I'd say we've got enough to interest Pasquini," Starsky said after a few, quite minutes. "Think we ought to stay?"

"No," Hutch said with a yawn. "I think this zoo's closed for the night. Let's go home."

 

End Chapter One