Chapter Text
Everyone was talking about the incident, just because it was so weird. Who, after all, would risk getting caught in order to steal a dead body out of a morgue – a body that had already been processed, so that everything that could be learned about it, and how it had been dispatched, had already been learned?
It had happened only the night before, but because it was fascinating, unusual, and a little bit disquieting, the whole department was talking about it by mid-shift that morning.
Starsky and Hutch were no exception.
“It's creepy, that's all,” Starsky said, continuing the conversation they'd been at, on and off, since they left headquarters.
“Of course it's creepy,” Hutch agreed. “I just don't think you should jump to the conclusion that there's a cult involved, that's all.”
“Because there are plenty of normal things one could do with a stolen corpse,” Starsky said sarcastically.
"Right,” said Hutch, as if Starsky had actually agreed with him. It annoyed Starsky when he did that, and he knew it, but the radio interrupted any retort.
“Zebra Three, Zebra Three,” it called over their dispute.
Hutch picked up the receiver. “This is Zebra Three, go ahead,” he said, smiling approval of its timing.
“Report to Captain Dobey to receive your package,” the dispatcher said.
“So today's the day after all,” Starsky commented.
Hutch gave him an 'I told you so' look, which Starsky either didn't see, or pretended not to. “Ten-four,” Hutch said to the dispatcher, “we're on our way.”
“I'll drop you off,” Starsky said.
“You'd think you could be a little more prepared,” Hutch said. “You're supposed to be a professional, you know – and here we are patrolling on the opposite side of town. A bag in the trunk, Starsk, that's all you'd need.”
“Remember, I'm responsible for the groceries,” Starsky said. “You can't exactly keep those in the trunk forever. I won't be long.”
“Ever heard of a supermarket?” Hutch asked drily.
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Starsky let him off outside the department at the curb right near the entry, and Hutch hurried inside. He went right to the squad room, and found Captain Dobey pacing. Dobey looked up as Hutch pulled one of the double doors open.
“Where's Starsky?” he demanded.
“He had to run by his place and get a few things,” Hutch explained.
“I told you two to be ready!” the Captain exclaimed, looking like his blood pressure was through the roof and climbing ever higher.
Hutch put on his most innocent expression. “Preaching to the choir, Captain,” he said, indicating his desk, where his neatly packed bag waited.
Dobey looked like he was slow-smoldering. “Well,” he said grumpily, “you come in and meet Woods, anyway.”
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Starsky had not yet reached his apartment, but someone was there anyway. The intruder had taken some clothes out of the dresser and had done a sloppy job of using them to dress the body that he'd put in the entryway. The body, that now bore a vague resemblance to Starsky, from a distance at least, was curled around a bomb large enough to blow it to bits; the intruder was nearly finished rigging the bomb to the doorknob, and when he was done, he let himself carefully out and descended the stairs, remaining nearby under the cover of some of the bushes.
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Back at the department, the Captain led Hutch into his office, where Woods was waiting. Woods, as Hutch knew, was an important witness in a big trial coming up in the next few days.
Dobey wasted no time with niceties. “Woods, this is Hutchinson, one of the officers that's been assigned to protect you,” he said.
Woods looked up at Hutch from his seat in front of Dobey's desk, peering at him through a tiny pair of spectacles. He reminded Hutch of a mole. “I thought there would be two?” he asked, without even a nod of greeting.
“Pleasure's all mine, apparently,” Hutch said drily.
“I'm sorry,” Woods looked offended. “I just – well, these people I used to run with, they don't play nice. I'd really feel better with two people.”
“Don't worry,” Dobey said. “Hutchinson and Starsky are two of my best. They're going to make sure you make it to that trial safe and secure. I have a cabin up in the mountains; they're going to take you there.”
“My partner's just out picking up groceries, that's all,” Hutch added. “He'll be back in a little bit.”
Dobey frowned at Hutch. “Groceries?” he asked. “Haven't you two ever heard of a supermarket?”
Sometimes, words were painful.
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Starsky had been prepared; it's just that there was no refrigerator at the department big enough to hold a week's supply for three, in addition to all the brown-bagger's lunches. His stash was all packed up and ready to go, though.
He drove quickly, probably fast enough so that Hutch would've griped about it if he'd been along, and hit the brakes with a screech when he got to his driveway – he didn't even take the time to pull into the driveway, because it required a little care to do it without hitting anything. He got out of the car and left the door hanging open, trotted up the steps, reached for the key, and used it to open the door.
The blast knocked him almost all the way down the stairs, and blew the door out on top of him. As soon as the debris stopped flying, the intruder that had been waiting in the bushes came out, pulled Starsky out from under the door, and carried him away over his shoulder.