Chapter Text
In Starsky's opinion, it was completely unacceptable interference – but it was just like Hutch.
“I can't believe you would do something like this,” he complained.
“Look, I'm telling you, it wouldn't have lasted between you two. I did you a favor,” Hutch replied. Smugly, Starsky thought. He went to the coffee machine, and very deliberately poured a cup only for himself.
“Have the courtesy to let me decide what's going to work for me, huh?”
“Starsky, you're too close to the situation. You don't have the right perspective.”
“Perspective?” Starsky asked, unbelievingly.
He was going to continue, but Captain Dobey barged into the room. Starsky swore that Dobey made a habit of hiding behind his door, waiting until he could hear them, just so he could explode into whatever it was that they happened to be talking about.
Today's interruption was terse. “Starsky. Hutchinson. My office,” he said, and then disappeared back behind the door.
They caught each other's eyes. “What now?” Starsky asked rhetorically, and Hutch shrugged. They followed Dobey into his office, though, Hutch shutting the door carefully behind them.
“Sit down, you two,” Dobey said. Frustration was evident in his voice, but Starsky didn't think it was directed at him and his partner this time. He sat without making any fuss, and Hutch did too, a moment later.
“Is there trouble, Captain?” Hutch asked, agreeing with Starsky, silently, that they were not the cause of this problem, whatever it was.
“Well, you're not going to like it, I can tell you that,” Dobey said.
“Terrific,” Starsky muttered sarcastically.
“You two are breaking up,” Dobey sighed. “You'll both be reassigned to new partners.”
“What?!” Starsky exclaimed before Hutch could. “Why?” Without waiting for Dobey to give a reason, he turned to his side with narrowed eyes. “Is this your idea of a joke? Because I'm not laughing.”
“I was just going to ask you the same thing,” Hutch said shortly.
“Will you two hotheads cool it?” Dobey interjected. “It comes from higher up. I don't have too much choice about it, and neither do you.”
“We don't get anything to say about it? I don't want a new partner,” Hutch said. “I like my old one.”
“Thanks a lot,” Starsky muttered.
“You know what I mean,” Hutch said.
Dobey ignored the chatter. “Of course you have a choice. You can quit. Or you can refuse the assignments. But that doesn't guarantee that you'll be reassigned to each other.”
“So these are specific assignments?” Hutch asked. “Does that mean that this arrangement is temporary?”
“They're of 'indefinite' length,” Dobey said. “But, yes, probably temporary.”
“Indefinite?” Starsky asked with a wrinkle in his nose. “I don't like the sound of that.”
“But, Starsk, if it's just temporary...”
“Look, if you take the assignments, and do what you can to make the powers that be happy, I'll do what I can to get you reassigned to each other when you're finished.”
“Do what you can?” Starsky repeated. “I thought you're the boss?”
Dobey fixed his detective with an apologetic gaze. “Your assignment takes you out of my department, Starsky.”
Starsky was horrified. “Better and better,” he said after a moment.
Hutch was deeply concerned as well. “What about me?” he asked, preparing for something equally terrible.
Dobey was apparently a little bit amused by either the question or the answer he was going to give. “Oh, you're going to just love it,” he said. “You get to babysit the governor's nephew.”
“Come again?” Hutch asked.
“The kid's just been promoted to detective, second class. He comes to us from the southern part of the state. Guess who was hand-picked to be his new partner?”
Worse things had been done to Hutch, but not recently. He rolled his eyes, and glared at the Captain. “Do I have to?” he asked flatly.
Starsky elbowed him in the arm, and grinned. “Oh, come on, it'll be fun!” he teased. He turned to the Captain. “What do I get to do, clean the toilets?”
“I don't know what the assignment is,” Dobey replied. “It's an undercover assignment, and outside my department, so they didn't tell me much. I suppose there's always a chance.”
“Well,” said Starsky. “At least the people with the fun job picked me.”
Hutch glared at his non-partner.
“Don't be so smug. They only got you because you're going out of the country, and Hutch has to testify in court pretty soon,” Dobey said.
Starsky glowered.
“Have fun with those foreign toilets,” Hutch said.
“Alright,” Dobey said, ending the meeting. “Starsky, you'd better get going. Your new captain wants to see you right away. And, Hutch, your new partner should be here pretty soon. Get a space ready for him. Put him at Starsky's desk.”
They both rose to leave.
“Oh, Starsky,” said Dobey.
"Yeah?”
“Take care of yourself. I want you back in one piece.”
“Sure thing, Captain,” Starsky grinned.
<><><><><><><><><><><><>
Out in the squad room, Starsky and Hutch stood looking at Starsky's old desk for a few moments.
“It's gonna be weird,” Hutch said.
“Me being gone?”
“Your desk being clean,” Hutch supplied.
“Look on the bright side. The new guy might have the right priorities, like I do,” Starsky said.
“That would be my luck,” Hutch said.
“I don't have time to clean this out,” Starsky said.
“Don't worry about it; I'll do it. I'll drop the things by your place later,” Hutch said. He rested his hand on the piggy bank they shared. “Do you want him?” he asked.
“No, I don't know where I'll be working. You keep him here,” Starsky decided.
“This stinks,” said Hutch.
“You said it,” said Starsky. He raised his eyebrows. “Well, I better get on my way. Don't want to make the new boss too mad at me.” He grinned resignedly. “So long, partner.”
“Hey,” Hutch said, taking Starsky by the arm. “This isn't forever.”
“Yeah,” Starsky nodded. “Here's looking at you, kid.”
As Starsky turned to leave, Hutch looked around the room for a box to put Starsky's things in; he found one next to a filing cabinet, under a table. By the time he'd pulled it out and stacked the things back that had been around it, there was what appeared to Hutch to be a kid, dressed in a casual suit, standing where Starsky had been moments before.
“Hi,” the kid said, self-assuredly. “I'm looking for Detective Hutchinson.”
Hutch set the box down and brushed off his dusty hands. “Yeah? Well, you found him. What do you want?”
The kid grinned. “I'm Peter Granger; I'm your new partner,” he said, sticking out his hand.
Hutch looked at it momentarily, and then took it quickly. “Hi,” he said.
“So, uh, what now?” asked Granger awkwardly, as if he'd played out the script he'd prepared.
Hutch studied his desk. “Well, read up on my case first,” he said, picking up a file off the desk and shoving it into Granger's hands without looking at him. “Sit anywhere.”
Granger nodded and started to sit in Starsky's chair.
“But not there,” Hutch said quickly. “Move over; I have to clean out that desk.”
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
Every step towards the Narco squad room felt like a betrayal, and Starsky had a sinking feeling that the glory days were over. He'd made light of it with Hutch, but now that he was without Hutch, it was much harder to think of reasons to make light of it. He was suspicious of what might have made someone higher up insist on this switch-around, and of whatever undercover assignment this was going to be. But when he got inside the squad room and prepared to knock on the captain's door, he put a light-hearted front up. Otherwise, he'd certainly get off on the wrong foot with these people, and there was no reason to make the situation worse than it already was. He was just going to pay very careful attention to everything, that was all.
The captain answered his knock with an directive to enter. Starsky assumed a grin, and opened the door.
“This where I'm supposed to be?” he asked.
The captain at the desk, and a female detective of about Starsky's age, turned towards the door, and suddenly Starsky had a glimmer of hope about the whole project. He thought he'd seen her around before, and she looked very nice.
“Detective Starsky,” the captain said. “Come in and sit down. You're late.”
“Sorry,” Starsky said, smiling a hello at the woman. “I came right over.” He sat in the empty chair at the captain's desk.
“This is Detective Kim McPhereson,” said the captain. “She's your partner for this op.”
“Hello,” Starsky said with another friendly smile.
“Hi,” said McPhereson reservedly, and Starsky began to wonder if he'd been prematurely hopeful.
“Although,” the captain continued, “I suppose it's more accurate to say that you're her partner.”
“Why split hairs?” Starsky suggested with a grin, trying to pretend the captain'd been telling a joke.
“McPhereson's been on this case longer. I expect you to follow her lead.”
“Alright,” Starsky agreed.
“McPhereson, do you want to fill him in?
“Sure,” said McPhereson. “This case began accidentally. My partner was Matt Walker.”
“Yeah, I know him,” said Starsky. “He's been around forever.”
McPhereson, apparently, was inclined to ignore interruptions. “He was vacationing, on Barados Island – that's the one with the new hotel that's getting all that attention.”
“Right, like the fourth largest in the world or something like that?” Starsky commented.
“Yes,” said McPhereson. “A few days into his vacation, the captain received a cryptic message – rambling, disjointed – almost delusional. Something about a farm and a river. We didn't think too much of it – he hits the sauce sometimes. But then his wife got a call a couple of days later – he'd been found washed up on the shore on the other side of the island, after disappearing off the golf course.”
“The local police have anything to say?” Starsky asked.
“Nothing that satisfies me,” said the captain. “That's why we're going in.”
While the feeling was commendable, Starsky thought that acting on it sounded a little iffy. “If you suspect foul play,” he asked slowly, “putting aside for the moment that we have no jurisdiction there, wouldn't this be a case for homicide?”
“Walker was my man,” said the captain. “I want his killer myself.”
“I can understand that,” Starsky began, but the captain interrupted him.
“McPhereson suggested you precisely because you're from homicide.”
“Why are you so sure there is a killer?” Starsky asked. “All you've got is a body in the water. That could have happened any number of ways... especially if he's known to... partake.”
“You didn't tell him the weird part,” the captain said to McPhereson.
“Weird?” Starsky repeated.
“Oh. Yes,” McPhereson said. “The body had all kinds of strange markings on it. Symbols. Apparently occultic. There are photos.” She pushed a folder across the desk so that Starsky could reach it.
There were photos. They were concerning.
“And this is where we're going?” Starsky asked, distastefully.
“That's right,” said the captain, as if Starsky was a lazy teenager. “You'll be staying at the hotel, undercover as a married couple on vacation.”
McPhereson had a plan already.“I think you should work on the golf angle – try to find out what he was doing when he disappeared. I'm going to look into the practice of voodoo on the island – a woman interested in the occult seems more believable than a man.”
“No argument there,” Starsky said.
“Fine. You're leaving tomorrow. Here are your tickets and reservations.” The captain shoved them across his desk with his fingertips.
Starsky looked up from the folder. “Tomorrow?” he asked in surprise. “That's awfully soon.”
“You wouldn't want any leads to go cold on you,” said the captain. “And, Starsky, you come highly recommended. But I'm not going to tolerate any shenanigans. You'd sure better give me the kind of work I expect, or it's going to be trouble for you.”
Starsky was speechless. McPhereson filled the gap, though, as if what the captain had just said was routine.
“I have some paperwork to finish, but I should be ready tomorrow if I can get home right afterwards,” she said.
“Good,” said the captain. “Starsky, while McPhereson finishes her paperwork, you look over this file and see if there's anything you missed. Questions, ask McPhereson. Got it?”
“Yeah,” Starsky nodded. And he grinned, just so the captain wouldn't be able to tell that he been bothered at all.