Getting the Job Done

 

It was supposed to be a routine bust. A new dealer had moved into Bay City and set up business right in the middle of their beat. Cocaine was flowing like water down the canals after a spring storm. Only, this cocaine was as toxic as a nuclear waste dump. Three people had already died, and the Mayor was on the Commissioner to stop it fast, and the Commissioner was on Dobey. As usual, Dobey turned the heat on his two top detectives to clean up the mess. So Starsky and Hutch teamed up with Narcotic's for a late night sting.

Their ace in the hole was Danny Legrit, a new kid in the department. Danny never wanted to be anything but a cop. His father, grandfather, and on down the line, had worn badges. He liked to tell stories about his great, great, great grandfather, who had lived during the time when the old West was filled with settlers, bank robbers and tiny little towns that lived by the law of the gun. Danny insisted that his ancestor had watched with the other townspeople in Tombstone, Arizona, when Wyatt Earp took on the infamous Clanton brothers. He loved to tell how Wyatt, along with his brothers Virgil and Morgan, and Doc Holliday, made his stand at the OK Corral, against Ike and Billy Clanton, Frank and Tom McLaury, and Billy Claiborne. Whenever Danny talked about that famous gunfight, his eyes blazed with an intense fascination. The stories handed down from his grandfather, and father, sparked the desire to stand against modern day criminals, like Wyatt had stood against the Clanton brothers. In fact, anyone who caught a glimpse of the inside of Danny's locker at the BCPD would instantly see that Danny was just a little obsessed with old Wyatt and the legend of the OK Corral.

Danny never doubted what he would be when he grew up. Enforcing the law was in his blood. So, after the rest of the team was hidden around the warehouse, Danny went in with a bag full of money, an innocent look on his face, and a wire tucked under his shirt. As soon as he had his hot little hands on the coke, Danny was supposed to give the signal and twenty armed officers were supposed to move in. The whole thing should have been over in minutes.

So how did Danny end up on a slab in the morgue, with a hole the size of Texas in his chest? Detective Ken Hutchinson stood with his fists clenched at his side and stared down at the lifeless face. He remembered the energetic young man that had graduated the academy only three years ago, ready to take on the world. Now, Danny would never see his thirtieth birthday. He had missed that milestone by only six days.

I'm sorry, kid. The law of the West went out of style a long time ago, and there really is no honor among thieves, or drug dealers. The bad guys don't play by the rules and the good guys don't always win.

The comforting hand on his shoulder didn't ease the ache in his soul.

"It wasn't your fault, Hutch. They weren't supposed to recognize him. We did the best that we could. And he ain't gonna come back to life no matter how long you stare at him."

Hutch covered Danny's face, his fingertips resting lightly on the white sheet for a moment. "I know." Then he pushed the slab back into the wall and closed the door. Turning, he walked out of the frigid room. "Come on."

Detective David Starsky walked quickly to catch up with his partner. "Where're we goin'?"

"We're going to finish the job that Danny started.  Let's see how these punks handle a couple of old warhorses."

"Hey."

Hutch stopped, turned back, and raised an eyebrow. "What?"

A fraction of a smile crossed Starsky's face. "Who're you calling old?"

They spent a tense thirty minutes in Dobey's office before he laid down the pen he was flicking against the desk and sighed.

"What do you want to do?"

Hutch glanced at Starsky then turned back to his captain. "We thought it might be time to pull Rafferty and O'Brian out of the mothballs."

"That was a long time ago, Hutch. What makes you think these creeps will be willing to do business with a cowboy from Texas and a pimp?"

Hutch smiled dangerously. "We thought we'd give them a whole new look. Anyway, the only thing Coleridge is interested in is money. As long as it's green, they won't care who's carrying it."

Dobey looked over at Starsky. "And you're going along with this?"

Starsky shrugged. "Danner might have lived in a fancy house and collected rare stamps as a hobby, but he was still a goon in a three-piece suit. These punks aren't that much different. Narcotic's had their shot at it. Now it's our turn."

Dobey picked up the pen again and tapped it on the desk. He glowered at the two detectives.

"OK, I'll set it up with Narco, but I want you to keep them in the loop. The number one rule in this department is no private parties! Got it?"

Starsky and Hutch nodded as they stood up, and answered in unison. "Got it."

They were almost to the door when Dobey spoke again. "Hutchinson."

Hutch turned back. "Yeah, Cap?"

"I know you thought a lot of Danny Legrit, but this department doesn't condone vigilantism, either. You're going after Coleridge to get him off the street, and that's it. Right?"

The blond gazed steadily at Dobey. "Right."

Three days later there were two new players in town. The Rhinestone cowboy outfit and the flashy pimp clothes were gone, replaced by Armani suits, silk ties, and Gucci shoes. There weren't any wisecracks or witty comebacks, just brief conversations over the phone about pure cocaine and lots of cold, hard, cash. With a promise of a cool quarter of a million dollars, they lured Coleridge into the same warehouse where Danny Legrit had lost his life.

Coleridge and his right-hand man were standing beside a new, black Caddy when Rafferty and O'Brian walked into the building. Two pairs of beady little eyes were drawn to the fat duffel bag in Rafferty's hands, and the .357 Magnum in O'Brian's.

Coleridge raised an eyebrow. "What's with the cannon? We're all friends here."

Rafferty's eyes searched the interior of the warehouse before he answered. "We're just being careful. We wouldn't want any unwelcome visitors, would we?"

Coleridge frowned. "Unwelcome…oh, you mean the fuzz? We got it all covered, O'Brian. Nobody knows we're here."

Starsky jerked a thumb toward Hutch. "He's O'Brian. I'm Rafferty."

"Oh, sorry. Anyway, we know how to handle the cops. The last pig that tried to scam us is lying in the morgue. The only party he's going to be crashing is in Hell." Coleridge laughed evilly. "He thought he put one over on us, but we showed him how cute he wasn't. You should have seen the kid squirm, but Jake put him out of his misery fast. He never knew what hit him."

Coleridge mistook Hutch's thin smile for amusement and winked. "You can keep the cannon, but you won't need it. Now, are you ready to do business?"

Starsky handed Jake the duffel bag with one hand and accepted the parcel of cocaine with the other. He moved to the trunk of the Caddy and opened a corner of the brown paper wrapped around the plastic bag full of white powder. He took a small, black case out of his pocket and laid it beside the package. Opening the case, he took a small spoon out and scooped up a tiny bit of cocaine. Dropping the cocaine into a test tube, he added a few drops of liquid to it then put a cork stopper on the tube. Shaking the glass tube vigorously, he examined the contents then nodded at Hutch.

"It's good stuff."

Coleridge was watching Jake count the money and didn't look up. "Yeah, it's prime and there's more where that came from. Lot's more."

Starsky smiled slightly. "As long as it stays this good, we'll keep coming back."

Coleridge motioned for Jake to pick up the duffel bag and grinned at Starsky. "Well, it was good doing business with you two. I hope it's the beginning of a lucrative relationship."

Hutch grinned wolfishly at Starsky. "You hear that, Raf? He wants to have a relationship with us."

"I heard, O'Brian." Starsky put the package of cocaine in his suit coat and pulled out his gun. "Only there's one small problem."

Coleridge and Jake took a step backward, bumping up against the Caddy. "Hey! What's this? Are you trying to rip us off?"

Hutch moved to Starsky's side. "No, we're arresting you, you dumb shit." He pulled out his badge and held it up. "Surprise! We're cops."

Starsky motioned with his Beretta. "Now, take that gun out of your jacket, really easy like and drop it on the floor. You, too, Jake, nice and easy."

The two thugs did as they were told. Starsky kept his weapon aimed at Jake while he turned him around and pushed him against the Caddy. While Hutch kept Coleridge covered, Starsky put his handcuffs on Jake then pushed him to the floor.

"Stay there."

Then he aimed his gun at Coleridge so Hutch could handcuff him. The blond pulled Coleridge away from Jake and pushed him against a cement pylon. After the cuffs were securely fastened around the thug's wrists, Hutch pulled him backwards then slammed him back into the pole. He spun Coleridge around and smiled at the blood streaming down his face.

"Oh, did you trip? Gee, that must hurt. Let me help you to the car."

Hutch pulled him away then stomped on his foot. When Coleridge bent over in pain, the blond rammed his fist under the thug's chin.

He smiled maliciously as he yanked on Coleridge's shackled arms, forcing him to stand erect. "Oh, I'm sorry! How clumsy of me!"

Hutch's eyes bored into Coleridge's, his smile widening as sweat streamed down the felon's face, mixing with blood. "That's for Danny Legrit, punk. I guess you'll be seeing him at that party, soon."

Starsky's voice broke the spell. "Hutch." When the blond glanced his way, he shook his head once. "That's enough."

Hutch curled his lips in disgust and turned away just as several uniformed officers ran into the building, followed closely by Dobey. The captain glared at Hutch, pointing his finger at the blond.

"You forgot to turn the transmitter on! We couldn't hear a thing."

Hutch glanced at Starsky then shrugged. "Oops."

As the officers walked Jake and Coleridge out of the warehouse, Dobey stared at Coleridge.

"Hey, what happened to him? Hutchinson!"

Hutch glanced over his shoulder, not breaking his stride as he walked away. "He ran into a pole."

 

The clouds overhead reflected Hutch's mood as he stood in front of the freshly turned earth and new headstone.

"You can rest now, Danny. We got the job done. Coleridge won't be hurting anyone, anymore."

He rubbed the scabs on his knuckles, grinning wolfishly. "Oh, yeah, I gave him a little going away present, from both of us. I thought you'd appreciate the gesture."

Kneeling down, he placed the lithograph of Wyatt Earp facing the Clanton brothers at the OK Corral against the stone. Standing again, he stretched the muscles of his shoulders as the weight he'd been carrying finally lifted.

"Happy birthday, kid."

 

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