This story is part three in a series and is the sequel to Loose Ends.
© January 2002
September 15, 1979
Matt Dixon was a graduate student at California State’s Bay City
campus in the anthropology department.
He was working on his master’s thesis and had decided to study the
subject of police culture and psychology.
Over the past two years, he had done most of his library research, and
had participated in a few field tests with various Southern California police
departments.
He was delighted to find out that his wife’s uncle was a close friend
of a captain of detectives in the Metro division of the Bay City police
department. Captain Harold Dobey and
Debbie Dixon’s Uncle Frank were uniformed officers at the same time. Frank was forced out of the department on a
medical retirement just before Dobey made captain, but they had maintained
their friendship. When Frank asked if
the captain would help Matt with his work, Dobey was happy to agree.
Frank had also told Matt that if he wanted to study a fascinating
case of police behavior, he should be sure to interview a pair of detectives
named Starsky and Hutchinson. Frank wouldn't go into any details – he said it
was because he didn't want Matt to have any preconceptions before he met the
two men – but he did tell him Dobey was their immediate superior and arranging
an interview with them should be easy.
The annual all Bay City precinct summer picnic seemed like the
perfect place for Matt to wander around and interview cops in a relaxed
setting. Dobey had informed the other
captains, but he didn’t tell the Metro staff.
Matt wanted him to be sure not to so he had his best shot at candid
answers from the detectives. Naturally,
word had gotten around quickly anyway.
His men were detectives.
Edith Dobey passed a picnic basket to her daughter, Rosie, and an
armload of lawn chairs to her son, Cal.
The captain already had his assignment.
While Edith and the children carried the Dobey family’s picnic items to
a table, Harold Dobey was busy helping Dave Starsky get out of the car. Despite the fact that it was a Saturday and
he was not on duty, Ken Hutchinson had to go down to the District Attorney’s
office for another brief deposition in the Gunther case. Just four months earlier, James Marshall
Gunther had hired hit men to kill both Starsky and Hutch in the Metro police
garage. Although Hutch wasn’t
physically injured, his partner was still on the long road to recovery from his
near fatal shooting. Struck three times
by bullets from an automatic weapon, Starsky had narrowly cheated death. Hutch didn’t like it that he would be going
ahead to the picnic without him, but he couldn’t refuse to trust his partner’s
safety and well being to their captain and his family. Hutch had left for the D.A.’s office at ten. He would give his deposition and be at the
ball field by noon.
The Gunther trial was scheduled to begin in just a few weeks. In addition to the fact that Starsky had
been too ill to spend much time out of the house, Hutch was nervous about
Gunther still having a long enough reach to harm his partner. He wouldn’t rest easy until the old man was
tried, convicted, and delivered to a penitentiary. Although Starsky’s memory of the shooting was blessedly sketchy, he
was expected to testify in court. That
had Hutch’s hackles up, but there was nothing he could do.
Captain Dobey had one strong arm around Starsky’s waist and the
other supporting his elbow. Today
wasn’t one of the injured officer’s better days, but he’d done his best to hide
that from his partner.
“You doing okay, Dave?” Dobey
asked when they were half way to the picnic table. Some of the homicide detectives had staked out the table for them
earlier in the day. They thought its
proximity to the parking lot, the baseball field, and the restrooms made it the
best place to install Detective Starsky for the duration. The less he had to walk, the better.
“Yeah, but... do you mind stopping for just a sec? I’m... a little... out of breath,” Starsky
replied in a quiet voice.
Dobey stopped instantly.
He felt a swell of anger at the condition Gunther’s goons had left
Starsky in as he looked across the grass twenty feet to the picnic table. Twenty feet that looked like two thousand
feet to the younger man.
“Uh, maybe I should just take you home....” Dobey started.
Starsky shook his head and waited for his breathing to
improve. One of the bullets had damaged
a lung and he still was having trouble with it on some days. “No way.
Hutch hasn’t had a minute of fun since this happened, dammit.”
“I know, but....”
“No. I’m okay. Let’s just get over there so I can sit
down.”
Starsky started moving forward again and in a few minutes, Dobey
helped him to sit at the table. He
didn’t like the thin sheen of perspiration on Starsky’s face, but his worried
glance to Edith was met with her shaking head.
She wanted him not to say anything.
Edith reached into the cooler chest for a Dr. Pepper, opened it,
and handed it to Starsky. She produced
a couple of pills Hutch had instructed her to dispense and dropped them onto
Starsky’s palm. He smiled at her and
said, “If I take both of these, I might just sleep through the
festivities.” He tried to hand one back
to her, but she shook her head at him.
“Dave, are you going to explain to Ken why you didn’t take all of
your pills?”
“He’s not gonna know if we don’t tell him.”
“You think? I think he
counts them,” Harold Dobey chimed into the conversation.
Starsky said, “Look over there,” as he pointed toward the baseball
field. When Edith and the captain did
as he said, he quietly dropped one of the pills into his shirt pocket. The Dobeys knew they’d been had.
Edith looked at her watch and said, “Okay, it’s only 11:30. If you decide maybe you should have taken
them both, just don’t forget to notice what time it is, okay?”
Some of the other detectives had seen Starsky’s arrival. They waited until it looked like he was
settled and then jogged over to speak with him.
Jack Hill had a baseball cap and a jersey in his hands. He handed them to Starsky and said, “Here’s
your stuff for this year’s team.”
“But I’m not playin’, Jack.”
“Aw, we ordered this stuff months ago. The guys want you to have them, okay?”
Starsky put the cap on and smiled. “Yeah, thanks.”
Hill’s partner, Sean Cavanaugh, pushed the baseball cap down farther
onto Starsky’s head. “There, that’ll
keep the sun out of your face.”
Starsky spread the team jersey out to look at it. Every year the plain-clothes detectives
played a team of uniformed officers.
This year the detectives had chosen the name “Bod Squad” for their
team. Starsky chuckled at the choice
and thanked his friends.
“Where’s your partner, Starsk?” Sean asked. “The game starts in an hour.”
“D.A.’s office. He’ll be
along by then.”
“Hey, Cap,” Jack said, “Some grad student is here. He already talked to Sean and me. You sure that’s on the up and up?”
“Yeah, the kid’s related to an old friend of mine. He really is doing his thesis on police
culture and psychology.”
Starsky snorted with laughter at that. “Whoa... what’s this about?”
Sean and the captain explained the process to Starsky. He was intrigued at what the student planned
to gain from the experience, but he told Dobey he’d go along with it.
~*~*~*~
Matt sat with Simmons underneath one of the park’s many pine
trees. The blanket of needles on the
ground was soft and sticky. He’d been
in the park since the first baseball teams had started to play at eight. His many interviews had piqued his
curiosity about a special facet of police culture – how partners interacted with
and depended upon each other. By the
time he got to Simmons, his thinking had changed course. Matt had decided to focus on partner
psychology and culture instead.
“How long have you and your partner been a team?” he asked as he
scribbled notes in his steno pad.
“Oh, about three years,” Simmons answered.
“What do you think your best assets are working with,” he paused
as he looked up through his notes, and then he said, “Babcock.”
Simmons was busy tying his baseball cleats while they
chatted. He was getting ready to meet
his partner out on the baseball field for a little pre-game warm-up. “Oh, I guess it’s that I trust him. We trust each other, you know?”
“Did that take a long time to develop?”
“Kind of. At first, we
didn’t like each other too much,” he said with a smile. “He can be a little arrogant and I’m not the
easiest guy to like. I’m a little bit
of a know it all.”
“What helped you to get over this dislike?” Matt asked with
interest.
“About a month after we were put together, we got in a jam. He saved my butt in a firefight. The rest is history, man.”
“Firefight? You mean a gun
battle?”
“That’s right. We
responded to a liquor store holdup and it went bad. He got me out of the line of fire after I took a minor wound in
my arm,” he said as he rubbed his hand over his upper arm without
thinking. “We hunkered down and waited
for backup. Starsky and Hutch showed up
a little while later and helped take down the perps.”
Matt looked back through his notes and used his pen to count off
the number of times he’d heard those names in previous interviews. He was getting the distinct impression that
this particular pair was a legend at Metro.
“Are they going to be here today?
I’ve been trying to track them down for a week. You see, I’ve decided to focus on partner
behavior, communication, and what you guys tell me is called the ‘rules of
engagement’ for partners.”
“You’ll definitely want to talk to them, then. They’ve been a team for a long time. Yeah, they’ll be here, but Starsky was hurt
real bad a few months ago. They’ve been
laying low while he recovers. Hutch
ain’t at work much. That’s probably why
you’ve been having a hard time.”
“What happened?” Matt asked.
He’d heard there was a shooting, but the other detectives were pretty
quiet about the incident. Matt was in
San Diego finishing some field work when Starsky was shot and he wasn’t
following the news, so he didn’t know many details. He was curious about the reasons why the cops he’d spoken with
might not want to discuss it.
“Well...” Simmons hedged.
“I think maybe you’d better ask Hutch.
I, uh....”
Matt said, “I’ve noticed that most of the Metro staff I’ve asked
don’t seem to want to talk about it.
Why do you suppose that is?”
“I don’t know, man. Maybe cops are a little superstitious. Starsky was shot and it was real close. Too close.
I don’t like to talk about it.
He’s still recovering, see, and... well,
I guess I’d be afraid I could jinx it. You know, tempting fate?”
Matt smiled at him and took some more notes. He wanted to investigate the concept of
superstition on the force. “Thanks,
that’s okay.”
“I’ve gotta go warm up. Is
that enough for now?”
“Yeah, thanks. I’ll catch
your partner later. I take it he’s playing,
too.”
“Sure is. Look, Hutch will
be playing in the game. You can catch
him after. Tall guy, blond. He’s pitching.”
“Thanks. I’ll look for
him.”
Hutch was just pulling up to the park as Matt was finishing with
Simmons. His trip to the D.A.’s office
had left him in a bad mood. Answering
Gunther’s attorney’s questions drained him.
That the man would try to get Gunther acquitted was obvious, but Hutch
wasn’t expecting it to make him as angry as it was.
As soon as he got out of the car, he scanned the park for where
the Dobeys had set up for the day. When
he spotted the table, he could see his partner was looking like he wasn’t
feeling well. Starsky was talking to Cal
when he felt Hutch’s gaze hit him.
“He’s here, isn’t he?” he asked Cal.
Cal was facing the parking lot and he looked up to see the tall
man striding toward them. “You know,
that’s kind of creepy how you do that.
Yeah, he’s here.”
“How does he look?”
Starsky didn’t want to turn around.
He was busy trying to look less uncomfortable.
Before Cal could answer, Hutch walked up and around to where he
could see Starsky’s face. “Hi, buddy,
you all right? Hi, Cal.”
Starsky smiled. “Battin’ a
thousand, buddy. How’d it go?”
“Don’t ask.” Hutch shook
his head and rubbed the back of his neck with one hand as he reached over and
patted Starsky’s hand with the other.
“Tell me later?”
“Yeah, okay. Did you eat?”
Cal said, “Hi, Hutch. We just got here a little while ago. You want something?”
“No, I have to play. You sure
you’re okay, Starsk? You look a little
tired today.”
“Worrywart. Go play, I’m
fine. Cal’s keeping me company and
Rosie is going to fix me a hot dog. Go
on.”
Hutch knew his friend wasn’t being completely honest, but he also
knew it was important to Starsky that he play in this game. Starsky had made it clear that he wanted him
to and he was going to do it.
“Can you see from here?” Hutch looked toward the field and
realized that Starsky would be able to watch the game from there. Starsky just smiled and shooed him toward
the field.
When Hutch was out of earshot, he said to Cal, “You think I fooled
him?”
“Nope. He’s ignoring it,
though.”
An hour later, the game was going well for the plain-clothes
team. Hutch had only given up a few
hits and one run. Starsky sat watching
for a long time, until the unrelenting sunlight started to make him feel
overheated and uncomfortable. Cal,
Rosie, and the captain had all gone to sit at the field where they could cheer
on their team. Edith stayed with Starsky
and she noticed that he was not doing well.
She touched him on one clammy hand to get his attention.
“Dave, you look uncomfortable.
Are you okay?”
He looked toward her and said, “Guess it’s kind of hot and sitting
on this hard bench isn’t doing much for me, but I’m okay.”
Starsky had been paying attention to the game, but Hutch had also
been paying attention to him. Between
pitches, and when he was on base, he glanced back toward the picnic table to
check on his partner. He was getting up
to warm up on deck when he saw Edith helping Starsky over to a lawn chair in
the shade under a nearby tree.
Hutch took a few steps toward the gate in the low fence when he
heard the crack of the bat and Babcock saying, “Hey, Hutch! You’re up.”
Hutch hesitated a moment.
Edith saw him looking at them, so she waved and smiled – doing her best
to send him the message that she had everything under control.
“Hutch!” Babcock said.
“Hey, you gonna play?”
The umpire was calling, “Batter up!”
Hutch looked both ways, first toward home plate, then back toward
his partner. He decided to go ahead
with his turn at bat. Fighting the urge
to rush over and make sure everything was all right took nearly all of his
resolve.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.”
Hutch strode toward home plate; sure he could feel Starsky’s pleasure
that he’d resisted the urge to hover.
“He’s doin’ great today, Edith,” Starsky said with a grin.
“You know how hard this is for him. He won’t like it if I let you get heat stroke over here. I’m going to get you another cold
drink. Dr. Pepper, root beer, lemonade,
or water, Dave?”
“How about a beer?” Starsky asked, knowing what the answer would
be.
“On pain pills? Are you
trying to get your partner mad at me? I
don’t think so. Be right back and I’ll
surprise you.” She took one more look
at him, making sure he was settled comfortably. The chair was the type that sits only a few inches off the
ground. He wasn’t going to be able to
get out of it without assistance.
Throughout the game, Matt Dixon had been wandering among the
crowd, talking to the officers and making notes. When Hutch had taken the field, he’d begun watching him. Following Hutch’s frequent glances back
toward the parking lot, Matt saw a dark-haired man who was obviously not
completely well. Even from a distance,
he could tell the man was sitting in a guarded position, possibly in pain, or
feeling ill. That must be Detective
Starsky. He watched Hutch’s turn at
bat. Despite his obvious distraction,
Hutch hit a double, sending Simmons home and making it to second base. He stood on base, keeping one eye on the
game and another on his friend.
The sound of screeching tires in the parking lot caused Hutch to
snap his attention around to find its source.
He did not like it that Starsky was so close to the parking lot and he
was so far away. The car speeding
through the parking lot was just a bunch of teenagers, not a threat to his
partner’s safety. Hutch sighed wearily,
longing for the day when he would be able to relax again, secure that Starsky
was safe from Gunther.
After giving him a root beer, Edith excused herself to go speak
with her husband next to the ball field.
Starsky hoped it wasn’t a report on his condition. The last thing he wanted was for Hutch to
get wind of how much pain he was in and insist on taking Starsky home. He checked the time and reached into his
pocket for the second pain pill, knowing he’d have to take it if he stood a
chance of hiding his discomfort from Hutch.
Matt decided he’d go and talk to Starsky since the game had only
run through three innings and Hutch would be busy for a while. Looking toward where Starsky sat, he noticed
the man was alone. Now would be a good
time.
Starsky’s eyes were drifting shut when he heard a quiet voice next
to him. He opened his eyes and looked
up at a young man he didn’t recognize.
A flash of worry sliced through him, but he immediately dismissed it. The young man was carrying a notepad and he
looked more like a college student than a hit man. Starsky guessed this must be the student Sean and Dobey had
mentioned. Hutch wasn’t the only one
who worried about Gunther trying something before the trial. That was something Starsky was keeping to
himself, although he was sure Hutch was worried about it, too.
“Sorry, were you talking to me?” he asked.
“Yes. Sorry to disturb
you. Are you Detective Starsky?”
“Who wants to know?”
Matt introduced himself and explained what he wanted. Starsky listened patiently and agreed to
speak with him.
“Thanks, Detective....”
“Just Starsky, or Dave will do.”
“Okay. Thanks. I’ve been talking to some of the other
partners and your name has come up a lot.
Yours and Detective Hutchinson’s.
I was hoping I could talk to him, but so far I just haven’t been in the
right place at the right time, I guess.”
Starsky looked past Matt to see that the inning had ended with
Hutch stranded on second. The
plain-clothes team was taking the field again, and Hutch was slowly moving
toward the dugout to ditch his batting helmet.
Starsky smiled.
“You want to meet my partner?
Okay, I’ll bet you I can arrange that in the next thirty seconds.”
“Really, how?” Matt asked, smiling back at him.
“I’ve gotta go to the can and I can’t get out of this torture trap
chair by myself. Give me a hand up and
over there. You’ll get to meet him, I
guarantee it.” He put a hand up for
Matt to help him.
Taking the injured man’s hand, Matt said, “I don’t want to hurt
you.” When he saw that Starsky wasn’t
going to be able to pull himself up, he put another hand under Starsky’s elbow
and hoisted him to his feet.
Starsky winced, but said, “No sweat. Just let me lean on you a little while we move that way,
okay? You won’t have to go far.”
Hutch saw the stranger talking to Starsky. He hadn’t been introduced to Matt yet, and
he had no idea that the graduate student would be there. When he saw the other man pull Starsky up
from his chair and start to walk away from the picnic area with him, he forgot
the game and headed straight for his partner, vaulting the fence rather than
taking the time to go through the gate.
He heard some of the guys calling after him, but Hutch ignored
them. His teammates could either put in
another pitcher or call a time out, that didn’t concern him. Dobey noticed what was going on and he
started to move in that direction.
True to Starsky’s prediction, Hutch came up behind the two men in
less than a minute. They weren’t even
half way to the restrooms when Hutch put a hand on Matt’s shoulder and said,
“Hey, what’s going on?”
Matt and Starsky stopped in their tracks, Starsky with a quiet
chuckle and Matt with a gulp of nervousness.
Matt was only five feet seven inches tall and the blond detective
towered over him. The determined look
on Hutch’s face was intense. He looked
at Starsky and relaxed a little when he saw his friend’s smile.
Starsky said, “Matt Dixon, daredevil graduate student, meet Ken
Hutchinson, partner, best friend, and bodyguard.”
“Ha, ha, wise ass. Graduate
student?” Hutch said as he put a hand out to shake Matt’s.
Starsky asked, “Was it thirty seconds?”
Matt shook Hutch’s hand and replied in a slightly shaky voice,
“Certainly less than a minute.”
Hutch started to say something, but he laughed instead, the
tension draining from him just as Sean Cavanaugh skidded to a stop next to
them. Both Starsky and Hutch were laughing at Matt’s expense by then.
"You guys are just too much," Sean said disgustedly, but
his eyes were twinkling. "Blondie, get your ass back to the pitcher's
mound. You want Jack to pitch this inning? We'd get creamed."
Hutch shifted his weight and glanced at Starsky.
"Go on," Starsky said. "We can't let the other guys
cream us."
"Guess not," Hutch said, turning to go. He'd only taken
a couple of steps when he turned back. "You sure --"
"I'm sure. Scram."
"Okay." Hutch loped back toward the field and Sean gave
Starsky a grin before he turned to follow him.
"So that's your partner."
"Yeah," Starsky said. "Can we go on, please?"
"Huh?" Matt was clearly puzzled.
"The can," Starsky reminded him.
"Oh. Yeah. Sure." Matt took his arm again and Starsky
did his best to look as if he were walking unassisted, knowing that Hutch was still
watching him. After Starsky was finished, Matt helped him back to the chair
under the tree. Edith was there waiting, with a tall glass of ice-cold lemonade
in her hand.
Starsky accepted it gratefully. "This is gonna hit the
spot," he said, and took a long swallow. He introduced Matt, and Edith
asked if he wanted some lemonade, too.
"I've got gallons of it," she said encouragingly, and he
accepted. She headed back to the picnic table.
"Okay, kid," Starsky said, settling back in the chair
and vainly trying to get comfortable. "What do you want to know?"
"I'm writing my master's thesis on the relationship between
partners on the police force," Matt said. "I'm focusing on
communication between partners and that," he waved his hand toward Hutch
vaguely, "just now, with your partner. That was amazing. Will you tell me
about it?"
Starsky frowned thoughtfully. "Well, I don't know if I can
explain it, exactly. It's, uh.... " He laughed. "You know what? I
don't know what it is."
"When did it start?"
Starsky's frown deepened. "Seems like it's always been this
way, but I guess it hasn't. We met in the police Academy and got to be good
friends, and by the time we were out, we knew we wanted to be partners
someday."
Matt scribbled some notes as Starsky talked and when he stopped
talking, Matt looked up. Starsky was looking toward the ball field, where Hutch
had just apparently pitched a home run to the other team.
"Wish he'd pay attention to the game, 'stead o' worryin'
about me," Starsky said.
"Can you tell me about the shooting?"
"Which one?" Starsky asked, a quirk in his lips that
wasn't quite a smile.
"There's been more than one?"
Starsky nodded. "But I guess you wanna hear about the latest
one. That was a close call."
Matt waited, pen poised.
"I can't tell ya too much, actually," Starsky said after
a few moments. "I remember me and Hutch playin' ping pong in the office –
they were painting and there wasn't much else we could do. Then we went down to
the garage. We were gonna go out to dinner and we were planning when and joking
about where. And I was unlockin' the car, and Hutch yelled for me to get down
and ... " He stopped again and gave a shrug. "I don't know much after
that. I don't remember much else until I woke up in the hospital. Hutch told me
that was four days later."
Matt whistled.
Starsky glanced toward the field again. Hutch was just wiping his
hands on his pants, preparing to pitch to a new batter. "It was pretty
tough on him."
"On him?" Matt said, astonished. "I'd say it was
tough on you. Didn't you almost die?"
Starsky nodded. "It's a lot harder to watch your partner
almost die than it is to almost die yourself," he said, and something in
his voice told Matt he'd been on that side of the hospital wall, too. "You
feel like you shoulda done something, even if there hadn't been anything you
could do. It's your job to keep him safe, and you failed." His eyes were
on Hutch again, and when Matt followed the direction of his gaze, he could see
that Hutch was watching Starsky, too. Starsky smiled and lifted one hand, and
Hutch turned back to the game.
"He felt guilty," Matt said.
"He felt helpless," Starsky said, not exactly correcting
Matt. More as if he were finishing a thought of his own. His eyes went a little
out of focus and Matt recalled that the man was recovering from that shooting.
"Listen, do you need a break?" Matt asked. "I can
come back to you later."
"Wouldja mind?" Starsky asked. "I'm sorry, it's the
medication. It's pretty strong."
"I appreciate you taking the time at all," Matt said,
rising. "Can I get you anything?"
Starsky shook his head. "Nope. I'm fine. Edith's nearby if I
need anything."
Matt
shook Starsky's hand and wandered over to the ball field to watch the rest of
the game. The two teams held the score
at a tie until the final inning. As
they headed into the bottom of the inning, the uniforms were ahead. The game was nearing its end, and Hutch was
sweaty and looked worn out as he left the mound to go into the dugout for the
detectives' last turn at bat. He nodded at Matt as he passed him.
Hutch was a good player, Matt thought, but he'd be even better if
he'd keep his mind on the game. He almost missed a good pitch because he was
looking at Starsky, and it would've been a strike. But at the last possible
moment, he swung and struck the ball solidly, sending it far over the head of
the left fielder, far enough that he was able to make it to second base. The
detectives' team went wild, screaming and yelling Hutch's name. They were two
runs behind and he'd been the first batter.
The second batter walked and the third hit a pop-up fly to center
field. Hutch hadn't moved. There hadn't been any opportunity, yet, to try to
steal home. The dugout had fallen silent as the next batter came up. Sean.
He was almost as tall and lean as Hutch, and held the bat in an
easy grip, his eyes narrowed as he looked at the pitcher. He let the first two pitches
go by; one strike and one ball. His easy stance never changed. And when the
third pitch came, he stepped forward into it and hit the ball cleanly in a
long, smooth arc that gave Hutch the opening he needed.
Hutch ran as hard as he could and managed to slide into home a
split second before the ball thudded into the catcher's mitt.
"Safe!" the umpire yelled. Sean was on second and the
man who had walked to first was on third base. Matt found himself cheering with
the detectives' team, but then he realized Hutch hadn't gotten up. Starsky,
under the tree, had obviously noticed, too, and was struggling to get out of
the low chair.
Matt rose, but others were quicker.
"Hutch, hey, what's up, man?" A dark-haired detective
from his own team had scrambled out of the dugout and made it to his side,
followed by two or three others.
"Nothing," Hutch answered, coughing a little.
"Twisted my knee, that's all."
The other cop helped him up and led him back toward the dugout to
the cheers of the other cops. Hutch lifted a hand with an embarrassed grin.
Two batters later, the game was over and the detectives had won.
After the back-thumping and the good-natured insults and threats of "wait
until next year!" were over, Hutch came over to Matt.
"Sean said he'd hang out with my partner while I talk to
you," Hutch said. He didn't sound enthusiastic.
"I really do appreciate it," Matt said. "I know
it's a pain in the ass."
Hutch laughed and sat down. "No, it's okay. Fire when
ready."
Matt explained his thesis while Hutch listened.
"Good topic," he said.
Matt was surprised. None of the other cops had made any comment at
all about his topic. But he hid his surprise and asked Hutch about his
partnership with Starsky.
Hutch glanced toward his partner, who was drinking another glass
of lemonade. "I suppose a lot of people have mentioned it to you," he
said instead of answering directly.
"Yeah. I get the impression you guys are sort of ...
legendary."
Instead of laughing or looking embarrassed, Hutch nodded. "I
suppose that's the impression they gave you. We've been involved with a lot of
high-profile cases. We've sailed pretty near the wind a few times. And unlike a
lot of partners, it hasn't made us hate each other. We've stuck it out. That's
kind of unusual, I guess."
"Why?"
Hutch frowned and looked into the distance. "I guess, when
you work with a guy and spend that much time with him and he sees all your bad
sides and sees you hurt and angry and disillusioned, you start to feel
uncomfortable with him. But Starsky and I ... well, it just seems to make us
closer, I guess."
"Why?"
Hutch grinned a little. "You studying to be a reporter?
That's their favorite question."
Matt returned the grin. "No. I'm just writing a thesis."
"Fair enough. Why? We fit. We complement each other. He's
more optimistic than I am. He enjoys life and he can let the kid inside of him
out. He loves Christmas and Halloween and playing games and carnival rides. I'm
more ..." He shrugged. "Cynical, maybe. I don't know. But I think I
steady him and he steadies me and somehow it all works."
"I hear that you two have some sort of psychic connection,
almost," Matt ventured.
Hutch, instead of laughing or rolling his eyes, nodded. "I
suppose we do. At times, we can almost read each other's minds. The way we
work, we just seem to know what the other one's doing. We don't need words as
much as other people do."
"Will you tell me about the shooting?"
Hutch's eyes grew serious and he shut them briefly, as if to avoid
looking at something painful. "I don't honestly know how I knew those guys
were after us. They pulled out of a parking slot and hit another squad but
didn't pause. Maybe that was it. I don't know, but suddenly I got very, very
scared and I yelled at Starsky to get down and – " He stopped for a moment
and swallowed. "He didn't. They shot him and he fell and I shot back, but
my hands were shaking so badly I didn't come anywhere near hitting them. And I
called his name, and he didn't answer." He stopped again; obviously this
was a difficult story for him to tell. Matt waited patiently. Finally, Hutch
said, "I ran around the car and he was down. There was blood all over the
front of his shirt. He was soaked in blood..." He wet his lips. "I
couldn't move for what felt like hours. I just stood there and stared at him
and ... finally, I went to him and I knelt by him and I was afraid to touch
him. I don't know why. And he was out cold. His lips were white. He was hardly
breathing, and when he did breathe, it was harsh. Rattling. Like people breathe
when they're dyin'."
Matt forgot to take notes, he was so caught up in the naked
emotion on Hutch's face. But he knew he wouldn't forget this.
Hutch drew a deep breath as if to steady himself. "There was
a lot of commotion, but it seemed far away. Other cops, somebody yelling for
help, our captain. But all I could see was Starsky, and all I could hear was
that rattle in his chest. One of the bullets pierced a lung," he added, looking
at Matt for the first time in several minutes. "I reached out and put my
hand on his cheek," unconsciously, Hutch's hand lifted and touched his own
cheek to demonstrate, "and he opened his eyes. He couldn't talk. He wanted
to. He was trying to. But all he could do was form the word – " Hutch
blinked rapidly for a moment and finally finished, "goodbye."
"He thought he was dying," Matt said.
"He was dying," Hutch answered. "He knew it. I knew
it. How he survived, I don't know. It's a miracle. Nothing less." He
looked at Matt again, but his eyes went past him to the tree where Starsky was
sitting, and without another word, he was on his feet and running.
Matt turned to look, and he could see, even from this distance,
that something was wrong with Starsky.
While Matt and Hutch were talking, Sean kept Starsky company. They talked about the game the detectives’
team had just won and the cases Sean and his partner were working. Sean assured Starsky that Hutch was
fine. He’d just twisted his knee,
nothing serious. Starsky, on the other
hand, had pulled a muscle trying to rise from the lawn chair and he was doing
his best to hide his additional discomfort from Sean. He didn’t want to give his nervous friend any reason to holler
for Hutch. Being treated like he was
fragile, despite the accuracy of that assumption, depressed the healing
detective. He wanted things to go back
to normal. His friends were attentive
and concerned, but at times, he couldn’t help wishing they’d treat him like
they did before he was shot.
Rosie Dobey ran up to Sean and pulled on one of his big
hands. “Come on, play Frisbee with me.”
Sean looked back at Starsky and said, “No, I’m sorry, Rosie. I promised to keep Starsky company.”
“Come on,” she wheedled.
“Uncle Dave usually plays with me, but he can’t right now. Uncle Hutch would get mad.”
Starsky laughed. “Yes, he
would, Rosie. He’d probably put me on
restriction.” Sean noticed the slight
wince on Starsky’s face as he laughed.
“No....”
“Pleeeeeeeeeeasssssse?
Everybody else is busy.”
“She’s awfully good at that, Sean. Go ahead. You’ll be right
over there, for God’s sake. I’m fine.”
Sean thought it would be fun to play with Rosie. She was a sweet girl and the detectives all
liked her. He chewed his bottom lip a
little as he decided, taking longer than either the little girl with big,
brown, pleading eyes, or the grown detective could bear.
“Look,” Starsky said, “Edith brought the morning paper with her so
I’d have something to read. It’s up
there on the table in the box with the paper plates. Bring it over here and I’ll just read while you guys do your
thing. Okay?”
“If you’re sure, Starsk.
Okay. I’m sorry for being so
uptight. I just... worry,” Sean said
with a sheepish smile.
Rosie ran over to the table and fetched the paper. “Thanks, Uncle Dave,” she said and she gave
him a kiss on his cheek. She and Sean moved off away from the trees to toss the
Frisbee while Starsky started on the paper.
He wasn’t feeling well, and he was wishing it was already time for
his next dose of pain medication.
Hoping reading would take his mind off of his discomfort, he started on
page one.
“Vegas Bound
Tour Bus Crashes – 3 Dead, 10 Injured” was the headline. A local tour bus company was under
investigation for safety violations.
Now that there had been a fatality accident, the investigation would
likely involve police work. He read
through that story and then turned to finish his article on page two. When he turned the page, his eyes were
immediately drawn to the story at the top of page three – “Gunther Trial Jury Selection Starts Monday.” He hadn’t read many of the articles about
the shooting, the investigation, or the upcoming trial. At first, he wasn’t able to read them. Later, as his recovery progressed, Hutch had
shielded him from them. Starsky knew
and appreciated that, even though he and Hutch never discussed it.
Starsky’s eyes were glued to the pictures accompanying the article. His hands started to shake, his face had
gone pale, and he was breathing hard.
The pictures showed the Torino with its shot out windows. Even in black and white, the large pool of
blood on the ground looked grisly. The
second picture was of James Marshall Gunther walking into court for one of the
pretrial hearings. The third picture
was worse.
Sometime after the media got wind of the story, a reporter had
taken pictures of Hutch at the hospital.
What was happening in that picture was clear to Starsky. One of his doctors was in the frame with
Hutch and Captain Dobey. Hutch was
leaning up against the wall and bending forward a little, with the captain
holding his arm to steady him. Although
it was a side shot, the stricken look on Hutch’s face seared into Starsky’s
heart. Hutch’s hands looked like they
were coming up toward his face... and they were covered in blood. Starsky’s blood. That sight brought a terrifying flashback to Starsky’s mind. He was lying on the ground and Hutch was
there. He felt something touch his
cheek and he opened his eyes. As hard
as he tried to talk, he couldn’t. His
vision was dimming and he knew he was dying so he’d tried to say goodbye. All of this came back to him and he
remembered the look in Hutch’s eyes as everything went dark and he believed his
last sight in life would be his frightened partner’s face and the last thing he
heard would be Hutch’s voice saying, “No, don’t go! Please, God, hang on.”
Seeing the graphic evidence of what Hutch endured that day was too
much for Starsky. He put a hand up to
his chest as if it might help get his racing heartbeat under control, and his
limp fingers dropped the paper onto the ground as the park started to spin.
Sean looked over at Starsky as he started to slump forward and to
the side. Hutch had spotted that he was
in trouble a few seconds after Sean.
Seeing him falling with his hand up to his chest was terrifying. Fearing it might be Starsky’s heart, Hutch
made his best speed, but his twisted knee slowed him and by the time he reached
Starsky, Sean was easing him down to the ground.
“Starsky!” Hutch called as he came to a stop and knelt next to his
friend, quickly feeling for a pulse.
Starsky was pale, but his color didn’t look like he was having a heart
attack and his pulse was strong and fast.
Hutch looked over at Sean and said, “What the hell happened?”
Starsky was unconscious; his face was covered with
perspiration. Hutch patted him on the
hand and the cheek, trying to revive him.
“I don’t know, Hutch,” Sean replied with a shaky voice. “He was just reading the paper, and next
thing I knew he was going down. I guess
he fainted. I’m pretty sure he didn’t
feel too good earlier.”
Starsky was starting to moan and turn his head from side to
side. Sean was kneeling on the
discarded newspaper. As Hutch talked
softly to Starsky and tried to bring him around, Sean got the paper out from
under him and looked at the first couple of pages, quickly finding what had set
off the other man.
“Shit, Hutch, this must be it,” he said as he held up page three
for Hutch to see the pictures.
“Dammit! It’s been four months, when will they stop running that
picture?” The local paper had run those
shots over and over during the first two months. Almost every time something new broke on the case.
Starsky’s eyes fluttered open and he said, “Hutch?”
Hutch turned his attention to the man on the ground. “Hey, buddy, you okay?”
Starsky looked confused and he was still breathing rapidly. Hutch wasn’t
happy with his racing heartbeat, either, but it seemed to be slowing. “Hutch?
Oh, God....”
“Sh, it’s okay, Starsk.
Just relax. Slow it down.”
Starsky nodded and put one hand up to cover his eyes, knowing he’d
never get it together if he kept trying to watch Hutch and Sean spinning around
him.
Matt had come up behind them by this time and he was asking if he
should run and call for an ambulance.
“No!” Starsky said. “I’m all right.”
Sean and Matt both looked at Hutch for his call. “You sure you’re all right, Gordo?”
“Yeah, yeah, just gimme a minute,” Starsky replied. “Just a little
dizzy. The pictures....”
Hutch took his pulse again and said, “No ambulance. I think Sean’s right, he just fainted.”
“Hey,” Starsky said. “He’s right here in front of you.”
Hutch laughed at the weak joke.
“Sorry, buddy. Come on, uncover
your eyes so I can see how you’re doing.”
Starsky obediently dropped his hand and opened his eyes, relieved
that there was only one of everything he could see, and the world had stopped
spinning. Hutch looked in his eyes,
satisfied that the crisis was passing.
“You ready to sit up?”
“Yeah, gimme a hand, huh?”
Hutch took one hand and Sean took the other. They gently sat Starsky up and Hutch got
behind him so that Starsky could lean back against his chest. Matt watched in fascination as the men
interacted. Hutch’s arm wrapped around
Starsky to steady him. None of them had
noticed poor Rosie Dobey, standing on the periphery, scared to death that
something terrible had happened to Starsky.
Matt just stood back and watched.
“Uncle Dave?” she said in a tiny, frightened voice.
“I’m okay, sweetheart.”
“Rosie, honey, would you please run over to one of the ice chests
and get us something cold for him to drink?” Hutch asked.
“Sure,” she said, happy to have something to do.
“Wait,” Hutch said as she turned to run the errand. He pulled out his handkerchief and handed it
to the child. “Get this wet with the
cold water from inside the ice chest, okay?”
She took it and dashed off to where her folks had left the ice
chests.
Hutch glanced at the paper still in Sean’s hands and quietly said,
“Get rid of that.”
“Don’t,” Starsky said. “I
want to read it.”
“Starsk....” Hutch started.
“No. I mean it. I heard
you talkin’ to Dobey. I have to
testify. Might as well read this stuff
now. I’m gonna hear it and see it in
court.”
Sean looked helpless, but he said, “How ‘bout I just put it back
with your stuff. You can decide what to
do with it later.”
Before Starsky could protest again, Hutch nodded his thanks. He reached for Starsky’s wrist, but got his
hand batted away before he could take Starsky’s pulse again.
“I’m all right, Blintz.
Was I out long?” This wasn’t the first time Starsky had fainted or lost
consciousness since he left the hospital.
The disconcerting feeling was all too familiar; even though it had been
almost two weeks since the last time it had happened. That time, he’d tried to stand up too fast and Hutch barely
caught him before he hit his head on the coffee table. His healing system was stretched taut and
any significant upset or physical problem that interfered with his equilibrium
seemed to affect him badly.
“Nope, just a couple of minutes.” Hutch rubbed Starsky’s arm,
trying to help him get warm again. His
skin still felt cold and he was shivering a little, despite the warmth of the
day. Rosie came back with a root beer and
the cool cloth. Starsky took the soda
gratefully and Hutch used the cloth to wipe Starsky’s face.
“Feels good, Hutch. Thanks.” Starsky put his head back on Hutch’s
shoulder and grabbed onto his arm.
“Hutch, that picture of you.
I....”
“Starsk, I’m sorry. I’ve
really tried hard to keep you from seeing that stuff. Maybe I did the wrong thing, but I don’t want you to get too
worked up about it. Gunther’s going
down in this trial and we can put it behind us.”