NoJustice2

Is There in Truth, No Justice?

Part 2

   Hutch crawled back into bed and turned on his side. He closed his eyes, keeping an image of the stars in his mind. The crickets outside his window sang a lonely song as he dozed off. The sounds faded as his heart beat slowed, and his breathing deepened. Bits of dreams flashed behind his eyes; dreams of his childhood, dreams of happier days with Vanessa, dreams of the good times spent with Starsky. He could see Starsky, Huggy, and himself at the Pits. They played pool, and were laughing and drinking beer. As he slipped deeper into sleep, the dreams turned more sinister. Hutch tossed and turned as disturbing images rose from his subconscious. He saw Lionel falling through the window, and the disgust and sadness on Huggy's face. He saw Allison and Starsky, walking slowly down the deserted street toward one another. He saw Deputy DA Claiborne lying on the floor of the airport. He moaned softly as he watched himself and Starsky, walking to the Torino. Hutch had only been asleep an hour and a half when his worst nightmare came crashing back.

    He was standing in front of the window in ICU again. He could hear the sound of the monitor flat-lining, like the whine of a thousand angry hornets swarming around his head. He watched as the doctor and the nurses tried frantically to start Starsky's heart beating again. The sound the respirator made as the nurse bagged him reminded him of an old fire place bellows, forcing air into the injured man's lungs. He held his own breath, praying silently for his friend to come back. He heard the doctor's soft voice issuing orders as he shocked Starsky's heart. Finally, he heard the words he didn't want to hear.

    "That's it, we've lost him." The doctor looked up at the clock. "Time of death, 1:15 am."

    Horrified, Hutch watched as they pulled the sheet over his partner's face. "NOOOOO!!!!!"

    He felt a strong hand on his shoulder and opened his eyes. Dobey was standing beside his bed, his face betraying the sadness he felt.

    "It's OK, Hutch. You were dreaming."

    Hutch sat up and looked around, confused. "Captain? What are you doing here? Where am I?"

    "You're in our house, in the den. It's OK, son, you're not alone."

    "But, I'm not supposed to be here. This isn't Aunt Gertie's house. Where's Starsky?"

    Dobey sat beside him on the bed. "Starsky's gone, Hutch. We buried him this afternoon. Don't you remember?"

    Hutch shook his head vehemently. "No! He's not dead. We went to his aunt's house. We're on vacation. He can't be dead!"

    Dobey gazed at him, his eyes full of pity. "Hutch, you have to quit doing this to yourself. Starsky's dead. He's gone and he's never coming back."

    Hutch glared at the black man. "NO! He's not dead! Starsky! Starsky!!!!!!!!!"

    The blond detective sat up, gasping for air. With a shaky finger, he turned on the small light beside the bed. He slumped back against the wall and waited for his heart to stop pounding. He was back where he belonged, in Aunt Gertie's house. Slowly, he climbed out of bed and tip-toed across the hall. The moonlight streaming in the small window illuminated the dark curls on the pillow. He leaned against the door frame, weak with relief. As he watched Starsky sleeping peacefully, Hutch made a silent vow.
    "Never again, Starsky. Whatever it takes, I'll never watch you die again."
    Exhausted, Hutch went back to his own bed and crawled back under the covers. The nightmares he had suffered through strengthened his resolve.
    "We'll find a way to work this out, Starsky. I didn't go through Hell to see you put yourself on the line again. I won't lose you again, police work be damned."
    He fell into a dreamless sleep, and was awakened a few hours later by the smell of bacon cooking. He slipped on a pair of pants and followed his nose. Starsky was standing at the stove, turning the bacon over and scrambling eggs. The ever present jeans were covered by a white chef's apron, and a chef's hat perched on top of the dark curls. Starsky grinned and waved him to a chair.
    "Morning, Blintz. Breakfast is almost ready. Have a seat."
    In spite of himself, the blond laughed out loud. "Starsky, where in the world did you find that getup?"
    "Hey, I'll have you know that my Uncle Archie wore this every time he cooked. Aunt Gertie did most of the cooking, but on Saturday mornings, Uncle Archie would fix a big breakfast, then we'd all go to the park and hang out. Even when I was young, and Ma and Nicky came out with me, this was my favorite place to go."
    Hutch looked around the cozy kitchen and smiled. "I can see why. It's so peaceful here. But, I bet it wasn't that peaceful with a houseful of Starsky's running around."
    "You got that right. But Aunt Gertie never seemed to mind. She said she always wanted a large family, but after my cousin, Sandy was born, she couldn't have any more kids. I guess having me and Nicky here made it seem like a large family to her."
    Hutch smiled wistfully. "I guess it did." He dropped his head as a feeling of sadness washed over him. Not wanting to spoil the mood, he kept his head down as he ate his breakfast. It didn't work, though. He could feel Starsky's eyes on him.
    "What's the matter, buddy?"
    Hutch shook his head as he wiped his mustache with a napkin. "Nothing. Hey, this is pretty good. Either your cooking is improving or it's the atmosphere. I didn't know scrambled eggs could taste like this."
    Starsky sat down across from his friend and gazed steadily at him. "Talk to me, Hutch. What's wrong? You look like you just lost your best friend."
    The blond flinched involuntarily. The nightmares he'd had last night came rushing back to him. Starsky didn't realize how appropriate his words were. He struggled to keep his voice casual.
    "It's nothing, Starsk, really. I guess all of this reminiscing made me a little sad. Your Uncle Archie is gone, and now your Aunt Gertie is going to sell her home. With all of the good memories she has of this house that must really be hard for her."
    Starsky nodded. "It is hard, but you have to take the bad with the good. She's smart enough to know that she can't take care of this place all by herself. Selling it won't make the memories disappear. She'll always have those."
    Hutch smiled at his friend. "You're right, it won't. When we don't have anything else, we still have our memories."
    "That's right, buddy. And don't ever forget it. Are you sure there's nothing else on your mind?"
    "I'm sure, Starsk. Come on, let's get these dishes done and get to work. We've got a lot to do."
    As he helped Starsky clean up the small kitchen, Hutch wondered if the memories he had of that fateful day would ever go away. Sometimes memories aren't a good thing, Starsk.

   Hutch dressed quickly in old jeans and a flannel work shirt then both men went out to tackle the front yard. Hutch surveyed the area, frowning.
    "You know, I thought it might look better after we got a good night's sleep, but it actually looks worse."
    Starsky nodded as he took in the trash and tree limbs that covered the weeds. Then he sighed.
    "Well, this ain't getting it done. Let's check out those outbuildings and see if we can find some rakes and stuff. We can't mow until we get this junk cleaned up."
    They walked over to the smallest and best kept building and opened the door. Thankfully, the lawn implements had been out of the weather, so they were still in good shape. They gathered up rakes, and found a small trailer that would hold the limbs and the trash.
    Hutch frowned as he thought of something. "Where do we take all this trash? It's a safe bet they don't have pick up around here."
    "We always took the trash to a big ditch behind the barn. It's more like a ravine, and Uncle Archie just dumped the trash in and put a layer of dirt over it every once in a while. I guess we'd better see if there's any room left before we get started on the yard."
    Hutch followed his partner, muttering. "It better be as big as the Grand Canyon if it's going to hold all this junk."
    They left the rakes and trailer while they walked the short distance to the ditch. Both men were relieved to see that there was plenty of room left at the bottom. They went back to the shed and put the rakes in the trailer, and went back to the front yard. The sound of birds singing and an occasional squirrel chattering kept them company as they worked. The sun was high overhead before they dumped the last load of trash into the ditch.
    Starsky wiped his forehead with a bandanna. "Well, it's starting to look like a yard, instead of a junk yard. I don't know about you, but I could use a break before we take this load to the ditch."
    Before Hutch could answer, the sound of a car coming up the small road broke the silence. A dark blue SUV drove slowly toward them. Hutch could see the red bubbles on the roof.
    He nodded toward the vehicle. "I think we've got company."
    The two detectives waited patiently while the SUV pulled in beside the Torino, and parked. The man that got out was wearing a khaki shirt and olive green trousers. He wore a light jacket that had a Sheriff's emblem on the pocket and shoulders and carried a dark brown hat in his hand. He was slightly taller than Starsky, with broad shoulders and a trim waist. Although his hair was grey, he carried himself with the vitality of a younger man. His blue eyes were intelligent, with laugh lines crinkling in the corners.
    He walked up to the detectives and gave them a friendly smile. "Gertie said she was getting some help with this place. Which one of you is her nephew?"
    Starsky wiped his hands on his jeans. "I am. I'm David Starsky, and this is my partner, Ken Hutchinson."
    The sheriff shook hands with both men. "I'm Jed Bradley. Pleased to meet you. I saw the car go by yesterday, but I thought you might want to rest a spell before you had company. You're doing your aunt a big favor by cleaning up the place. I know she appreciates it."
    Starsky smiled. "Well, we had some time off, so we thought we'd help out a little. I'll admit we didn't know the place had gone down this much, but we'll get it fixed up for her."
    Bradley nodded. "Yeah, Archie couldn't do much after he took sick, and Gertie wasn't able, so the place went down fast. It's a good piece of property, though. She shouldn't have a problem selling it. We'll be sorry to see her go. They made a lot of good friends around here. The town will miss them."
    Starsky laid his rake on the trailer. "We were going to take a break and have something to drink. I was going to make some lemonade, if you'd care to have some, Sheriff."
    "I don't want to hold you up, but sure, a cold drink would be great."
    The three men went up to the porch, and Hutch motioned for the Sheriff to sit down while Starsky went into the house.
    Bradley watched him disappear into the kitchen, and then gazed steadily at Hutch.
    "He seems in pretty good shape for a man that almost met his maker."
    Hutch tilted his head. "How did you know?"
    "Gertie told me a little about it, but she didn't have to. Gunther's arrest was in all the papers. Lamont isn't that far from Bay City."
    "I guess not. He's doing OK. He's not a hundred percent yet, and he probably never will be, but he's coming damn close. You could say this is therapy for both of us. He needs to get his strength back, and we both need a little peace and quiet. Lamont seems like a good place to be right now. It looks like a friendly town, Sheriff. I don't mind telling you that I'm a little envious. After the Hell we've been through, Lamont seems like Heaven."
    Starsky came out, carrying three glasses. He handed Hutch and Bradley a glass and sat down beside his partner.
    "It's not as good as Gertie's, but it hits the spot. So, what brings you out this way, Sheriff? I mean, this is an awful lot of territory for one man to cover."
    "It is, but I've got a couple of deputies that help out. Mostly it's a matter of routine patrols. It's a quiet town, David. Out this way, all you have to look for is hunters that get so wrapped up in what they're doing that they cross onto someone else's land. Then you get the kids that park on the back roads and party, and get a little noisy. We have our town drunks and once in a while we have a drifter that passes through, but we haven't had a homicide in five years. It's just a sleepy little town where everybody knows everybody."
    Starsky grinned. "It was that way when I was a kid. You're doing a good job, Sheriff. Keeping the slime in the big cities from taking over here isn't easy. We've had plenty of experience with that, believe me."
    Bradley nodded as he finished his lemonade. "Well, I'd love to stay longer, but I need to finish my rounds. Somebody called in and said there was a tree lying in the road a couple of miles from here, so I'd better check it out before the highway department closes. It was nice meeting you, and I'll tell Gertie you're doing a good job. The next time you're in town, stop by and we'll have lunch, my treat."
    Hutch smiled. "Thanks, Sheriff, we'll do that."
    Bradley stood and looked out at the trees. "You know, being a Sheriff in a small town is a good life. Sometimes it's about as exciting as watching the grass grow, but there aren't many people gunning for you, either."
    Bradley nodded at the detectives, put his hat on and walked back to his car. As he drove away, he waved to them.
    Starsky finished his drink and looked at Hutch. "Well, you ready to get back to it? We still got a lot of ground to cover before we can start mowing."
    "Yep, I'm ready. Oh, by the way, where did you learn to make lemonade? It tasted pretty good."
    "Gertie showed me how. I know it sounds kinda weird, but I liked doing things like that. I wouldn't go near the kitchen back in New York, because my friends would have given me grief, but it was different out here. I could do what I wanted and nobody teased me about it."
    "I know what you mean. It reminds me of my grandfather's farm. You didn't have to be what everyone expected you to be, you could just be yourself. I always wanted to live on a farm like my granddads. It always seemed so much better than our house. I guess most kids feel that way. "
    "I guess so. I know I looked forward to coming out here. We always had lots to do and even the chores were fun." Starsky slapped his friend on the back and grinned. "Come on, partner, we've got some chores of our own to do. They might not be fun, be we've got to get them done. Time's a wasting."
    A few hours later, they dumped the last of the trash into the ditch and went back to the shed for the lawn mowers. Starsky climbed on the riding lawn mower while Hutch used the push mower to go around the trees and the fence row. By the time the yard was finished, the sun was going down. Starsky and Hutch ate a quiet dinner and fell into bed, exhausted.

   Both men slept soundly through the night, much to Hutch's relief. Tired from the physical exertion that day, he had immediately fallen into a dreamless sleep. The sun was shining when he rolled over in bed and looked at the clock. It was 7 am, and the only sound he could hear was the birds singing outside his window. He quietly crossed the hall and peeked in. Starsky was still asleep, with the covers over his head.
    Hutch took a long, hot shower and dressed in clean clothes. He started a pot of coffee and looked around the kitchen, trying to decide what to cook. He snapped his fingers as an idea occurred to him, and quickly gathered the ingredients for waffles. He knew that his friend would be roused by the aroma of breakfast cooking, and hoped the waffles would stimulate his appetite even further. As expected, he heard water running in the shower as he started frying sausages. Ten minutes later, his partner came bounding in to the room.
    "What smells so good? That sure isn't some of your health drink!"
    Hutch pointed a spatula at his friend. "Are you saying that my health drink smells bad?"
    "That depends on what you mean by bad. If you think animal organs and rotten wheat germ smells good, then it smells great. Me, I'd rather go outside and smell the compost heap."
    Hutch gave him a mock glare. "Watch it, buddy. I can always make one for you."
    "What, and set my recovery back a year? You wouldn't do that, would you?"
    "Ha ha. Sit down and eat before I take your part of these waffles and give them to the compost heap."
    "I'm sitting already. What are you waiting for? Let's eat."
    The two men ate in companionable silence. As he sipped a second cup of coffee, Starsky looked at his friend.
    "Did you sleep well, buddy?"
    Hutch grinned. "I sure did. It must be all this fresh air."
    Starsky chuckled. "Or all the work we did yesterday. So, what do you want to do today? Do you want to work in the field or start on the house?"
    Hutch shrugged. "I don't care. Which do you want to do?"
    Starsky grinned. "I think I've had enough yard work for a few days. Let's start on the house. It's not going to need much work. All we have to do is fix the shutters, the hole in the porch, and check out the roof. We can give the house a coat of fresh paint and have it looking like new in no time."
    Hutch cleared his throat. "It doesn't need much? Are you sure you don't want to add a few columns to the porch, brick the house up, and pave the driveway while we're at it?"
    Starsky frowned. "Now you're exaggerating. Look, all we have to do to the shutters is nail them back on the windows. We can take a look at the front porch, and the roof and get an idea of the supplies we need. I saw a good, sturdy step ladder in Archie's shed, and we might even find some paint if we're lucky."
    "If we're lucky." Hutch looked closer at the brunette. "Are you sure you're up to this? We've got two weeks before we go back, assuming Dobey can get you an appointment with the Review Board. We don't have to do it all in two days."
    Starsky's eyes narrowed. "What are you getting at?"
    "I'm not getting at anything. I was just asking a question. We put in a hard day yesterday. You were pretty exhausted last night. Maybe we should take it easy today."
    Starsky took a deep breath and counted to ten. "You can't keep doing this, Hutch."
   Hutch dropped his eyes. "Keep doing what?"
   Starsky clenched his jaw. "You can't keep hovering over me like I'm going to break into a million pieces. In case you've forgotten, I've been cleared for active duty. I'm not going to let you do all the work while I sit on the front porch and rock."
   "I didn't say you had to sit on the porch, Starsky. I just don't want you to over do it."
   "I'm not going to over do it, Hutch. I may not be as strong as you are, but I can pull my share of the load. I'm not a baby."
   "Damn it, Starsky, I didn't say you were! I'm just telling you to take it easy!"
   Two pairs of blue eyes bored into each other then looked away. Starsky sighed quietly.
   "I know my limitations, Hutch. Believe me, I know. Dr. Martel made them pretty clear while I was lying in that hospital bed. I know I won't ever be the way I was before Gunther, but I've come damn close. You have to trust me on this. I'm not going to get hurt. I know when to stop."
   Hutch looked down at his feet. "I do trust you, Starsk. Just promise me you'll take it easy, okay? If you get tired, say so. The house isn't going any where and neither are we."
    Starsky nodded. "OK. I promise that I'll stop if I get tired. Come on, let's get these dishes washed and get to work."
    He gathered up the dishes and started water running in the sink. He turned back to his friend and spoke softly.
    "If you don't trust me to take care of myself out here, how are you ever going to trust me to take care of you when we go back on the job?"
    Hutch winced at the hurt in Starsky's voice. "I do trust you, buddy. Did you ever stop to think that I don't trust myself to take care of you?"
    Starsky laid a hand on his friend's shoulder. "You've always taken care of me, Hutch."
    Hutch looked into his partner's eyes. "Not always, Starsk. Not always."
    Starsky shook his head. "You didn't put the gun in those creeps' hands, Hutch. Just like you didn't put the hypo in Bellamy's hand, or the knife in Gail's hand. You've always watched my back and you did the best you could. You were never responsible for me getting hurt. It comes with the job and we both knew that going in."
    Hutch smiled slightly. "OK, you win. I'll try to stop feeling guilty."
    Starsky grinned at his friend. "You stop feeling guilty? That would be like the Pope forgetting to pray."
    Hutch threw a mock punch at Starsky. "Smart ass." Then, he grinned.

Crisis over, the two men trekked out to the shed and wrestled the large step ladder to the front of the house. Hutch bit his lip as Starsky climbed the rungs, determined not to mother hen the other man. Starsky looked at the hole in the porch, and at the roof. He climbed back down the ladder.
    "Well, the roof looks pretty good. The shingles seem new, and there aren't any places that are sagging. I think if we can find a good piece of plywood, we can cover the hole over the porch, and then put some shingles over that. It may not be a professional job, but it will stop the porch from getting wet."
    "OK. Did you see any plywood, or shingles in the shed?"
    "No, but we really haven't looked in the barn. All we've done is glance around it. Let's go see what we can find."
    The walked out to the old barn behind the shed. The wood was old and the paint was starting to peel, but otherwise the building seemed sound. Hutch nodded his head in approval.
    "Hey, this isn't bad! I thought it would be in worse shape than this."
    Starsky nodded. "When my Uncle Archie was younger, he kept cows in the pasture, and even a couple of horses. Nicky and I used to ride them when we came out to visit. They were just a couple of work horses, but to us, they were better than the fastest race horses at the track. As he got older and his health went down, he sold off the livestock. He couldn't afford to feed them, and he couldn't take care of them by himself. Man, I really missed those horses. Nicky and I both cried for a week after he sold them. I haven't been on a horse in years."
    Hutch gave his friend a surprised look. "Why, Starsky! All this time I thought you were a city boy. I never knew you could ride a horse."
    Starsky snorted. "Don't go getting any ideas, buddy. I am a city boy. We rode a few times on a sway-back horse. That hardly makes me an expert on horseback riding."
    "That's too bad. I thought I knew what to give you for your birthday this year. "
    Starsky laughed. "My landlord would have a fit if I tried to keep a horse in the back yard. Sorry, Blintz. You'll have to think of something else."
    Hutch grinned fondly at him then looked around the barn. "So, what did he keep in here after he sold the livestock?"
    The brunette shrugged. "Farm equipment, like tractors and plows, and stuff for the house, I guess."
    Hutch walked farther into the building, and looked into a stall. His eyes brightened.
    "Hey, look what I found!"
    Starsky peeked over his shoulder. Several small pieces of plywood were stacked against the wall, and an opened square of shingles lay on the ground. He spread his hands out in front of him and grinned.
    "Uncle Archie always was a pack rat. He never could throw anything away. This should be enough to fix the roof over the porch. I know I saw a hammer and nails in the shed. Here, you grab the shingles and I'll grab the plywood. We'll have the roof fixed in no time."
    The two men gathered up the supplies and went back to the house. Starsky handed the hammer and nails to Hutch.
    "Here, hold these. When I get to the top, hand the plywood to me and then the hammer and nails. As soon as I get the plywood in place, you can hand me the shingles. That way, neither of us has to keep climbing up and down the ladder."
    Hutch looked pensive. "Umm, I'm almost afraid to ask, but why are you the one climbing the ladder? I do know how to hammer a nail." Before Starsky could answer, he raised his hands in surrender. "Now, don't get pissed. It was just a question. I'm not telling you that you can't, I'm just asking why."
    Starsky thought for a minute, and then nodded. "OK, that's a fair question. You're a little taller than I am and your reach is a little longer. So, I can stand in one spot and reach the supplies and the roof. If you get up here, you're going to have to keep climbing up and down a couple of rungs. Now, I know I said this ladder is sturdy, but why waste the energy? The faster we get this done, the sooner I can get off the ladder. Is that OK with you?"
    Hutch mulled it over, and finally nodded. "That sounds like a plan to me. Good thinking, Starsk."
    He watched the brunette climb the ladder then lifted the first small piece of plywood up to him. He held his breath while Starsky nailed the plywood in place then handed him the next piece. It seemed like hours before Starsky nailed the last board into place, but it was actually only a few minutes. He let out the breath he was holding when Starsky handed him the hammer and the small can of nails, and started back down the ladder. As the brunette stepped down, his foot slipped and he grabbed the ladder to keep from falling. Hutch's heart skipped a beat as he started for the ladder, but his friend caught himself and regained his footing.
    "Damn it, Starsky, be careful! The last thing we need is for you to break your leg! We're out in the middle of nowhere and God only knows how long it would take for an ambulance to get here!"
    Starsky clenched his jaw as he jumped to the ground. "Hutch, will you chill out? I was only a couple of feet up. Even if I fell, I wouldn't hurt myself. Will you quit tryin' to nursemaid me? You can't keep running around behind me like I'm gonna break any second. We're not gonna get a lot of work done if you keep tryin' to hold my hand. There ain't room on the ladder for both of us."
    Hutch glared back at him. "That's not funny, Starsk. I'm not nursemaiding you. I don't think I'm being unreasonable by asking you to be careful."
    "Is this the way it's going to be, buddy? Are you going to spend the rest of your life worrying about shit like this? You can't wrap me in a cocoon and lock me in my room. What the Hell are you going to do when we go back to work? I'll tell you what you're gonna do. You're going to be so caught up in protecting me that you're gonna get both of us killed. YOU GOTTA STOP THIS, HUTCH!"
    Hutch threw the hammer and nails down and walked away. For a while, neither man spoke. Then he turned around.
    "Stop what, Starsky? Stop caring about what happens to you? We've been like a couple of sitting ducks in a carnival game. Step right up, everyone and try your luck. Shoot the dumb cop three times and win a prize! And every time some scumbag gets lucky, we pop right back up. Why? So the next punk with a gun can do it again? What if I'm the one that goes down next time? What if it's both of us? What are we supposed to do, spend the rest of our lives taking turns getting hurt? WHAT THE HELL FOR?"
    He took a deep breath, willing himself to calm down. "I don't know how to make you understand. Sure, we took Gunther out. So what? We took Prudholm out, and Marcus, and Forrest. What did we get? Look who took their place: Gunther. Who's next, Starsky? Who's going to take Gunther's place?"
    "I don't know, Hutch. I see what you're saying. Each time, they get a little bigger and a little meaner. But does that mean we gotta stop trying? We can't take care of the whole world. We can only take care of our little piece of it. That's what this job is all about, cleaning the street up, one crook at a time. That's all we can do."
    "And what's the cost? I've lost everyone I care about. I've spent my life waiting for someone to come along, that I can spend my life with. Every time I do, this damned job takes it away."
    Hutch took a step closer to his friend and softened his voice. "You're the only person in my life that means anything to me. I almost lost you this time. I don't want this badge to take you, too. Don't ask me to stand by and watch you get killed again. I can't do it, Starsk."
    He looked down, his face a mask of pain. Then he looked back up. "Don't ask me to go back to where we were. I can't, I won't do it."
    Starsky stood, stunned, as the blond walked back into the house. The pain that echoed in his words hung in the air. Starsky shook his head sadly. Where did they go from here? He looked down at the hammer, and the can of nails that Hutch had dropped. One thing was certain. The small house wasn't the only thing that needed repairs. As he slowly followed Hutch back inside, the shingles lay forgotten on the ground.

   Starsky walked slowly back into the house, looking for Hutch. The front room and kitchen were empty, and he couldn't hear the sound of water running in the bathroom. There was only one other place Hutch could be, in his room. Starsky quietly went back to the kitchen and took two beers out of the fridge. Then he went back to Hutch. He stood in the doorway for a moment, and looked closely at his partner.
    What do I say to you, buddy? How can I convince you that your whole life hasn't been a waste? Whatever it takes, I have to make you see that. Remember what we've said from the first? Me and thee. There can't be a"me" without thee.
    Starsky walked over to the window seat and silently offered one of the beers to his friend. Hutch accepted it without speaking and took a long drink. He leaned against the window and looked out. Starsky sat down beside him, and laid a gentle hand on the blond's knee. "This isn't just about Gunther, is it? You want to tell me when it started?"
    Hutch shrugged. "I don't know, to tell you the truth. I think it started slowly. You know, with just the little things. Finding out about John Blaine was a real shock. I mean, you thought you knew him, Starsky. He was the reason you joined the force to begin with, or one of them. But, he had this whole other life that you didn't know about, and neither did Maggie. And look at Iron Mike. Half the department thought the sun rose in his eyes, and all the time, he was turning his back on what Matt Coyle was doing, in return for information. These were supposed to be the good guys, Starsk. Suddenly I realized that nothing was black and white, that it never was."
    He took another drink and tried to gather his thoughts. "You know, when we found out that Burke and Corman were bad, I just chalked that up to experience. For every bad cop on the force, there are a thousand good cops. I thought they were just a couple of greedy, slimy creeps that happened to wear a badge. But what about John, and what about Iron Mike? They were good cops, Starsky. I never doubted that about them. But John was so afraid of losing his job that he lived a lie all of his adult life. And Iron Mike was so caught up in having a perfect arrest record that he was willing to sleep with a creep like Coyle. Is this badge worth everything they did, and every one they hurt?"
    "I can't answer that, Hutch. I don't have to remind you how much John's death shook me up, or the things I found out about him after he died. It took me a long time to come to terms with the fact that he was gay, and I never knew it. I mean, how could I be so close to him and not guess that?"
    Starsky took a drink of his beer and settle back against the window. "As for Iron Mike, I think I can explain that one better. He decided leaving Matt Coyle on the street was a lot better than leaving some of the other creeps that he put behind bars. Coyle had his own twisted sense of honor. I'm not saying Ferguson was right, I'm just saying I can understand his motives."
    Hutch sighed. "Yeah, I can understand that too, in a way. After we busted Coyle, I started wondering about this job. We promised ourselves that we wouldn't let this job corrupt us, and we didn't. But, I started wondering if we were the only two cops that didn't. Over the years, it started getting harder to tell the good guys from the bad. The good guys weren't completely good, and the bad guys weren't all bad."
    Starsky shook his head. "The world isn't in black and white, Hutch. There are shades of grey all over, not just on the police force."
    "I know that, Starsk. And I'm not saying that everything we did was wrong. We put some evil people away. The world is a lot better off without the likes of Marcus and Prudholm and Forrest. But there were others that weren't so easy to write off, like Hector Salidas. This guy spent most of his life on the water. He worked some really hard jobs, and got nothing to show for it. The only claim to fame he had was being a serial killer. What made him start killing those women? When did he stop looking for love and start wanting blood? What turned him into a killing machine?"
    "I don't know. Hector was sick, Hutch. I think part of him got tired of the killing eventually. I think he knew that the only way he would stop is if we stopped him. He knew that if we took him alive, he would spend the rest of his life in prison, and he couldn't handle that. We didn't make him that way, buddy."
    "Yeah, I know. Still, he wasn't all bad, Starsky. He could have killed Hannah and Laura any time he wanted, but he didn't. He could have killed me, and used the women to get himself out of town, but he didn't. There had to be some shred of decency left in the man, some where. Hannah saw it. She was never afraid of him. She was afraid of the knife, sure, but she treated Hector like he was a human being, not like some rabid animal. In spite of everything, she saw the good in him."
    Starsky smiled slightly. "Hannah sees the good in everybody."
    Hutch smiled back. "Yeah, she does." He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the cool glass. Then he whispered softly. "I used to. I don't know when I stopped, but I used to."
    "I think you're being too hard on yourself, buddy. You went into that house, unarmed. You tried to save Hector as well as two innocent women, but he wouldn't let you. He used you, and Hannah, and Laura to get himself out of trouble. He had his own motives and he didn't care who got hurt along the way."
    Agitated, Hutch stood up and paced around the room. He gestured with the beer.
    "That's exactly my point, Starsky. Hector wanted out of that house, and he wanted to live. He was willing to do anything to get what he wanted, no matter what the cost. Haven't we done the same thing over the years? We set our sights on whatever scumbag we want and go after him. If we need to use someone to get what we want, we use them. If they get hurt in the process, oh well. It's all for the job, right?"
    Starsky gazed steadily at his friend. "Who are you thinking of, Hutch?"
    The blond slumped back onto the window seat as the anger left him.
    "Marianne Owens. Poor misguided Marianne. Her life was even more screwed up than mine. She took that fall for her brother and spent four years in the joint, while he played Joe Fitch's court jester. All she wanted was to keep her brother safe and alive, and all I wanted was Fitch. So I seduced her and tried to get to Fitch through her. When she found out I was a cop, she told me to get lost, but did I? No, I kept on pushing and using her until I got her brother killed. After she left, I took a long, hard look at myself, and I didn't like what I saw. Suddenly, I was no better than Iron Mike Ferguson. In fact, I was worse. Matt Coyle knew exactly what he was doing, and he profited from the arrangement with Mike. I snuck up on Marianne's blind side and ambushed her. All she got for her trouble was more pain. Where's the justice in that, Starsky?"
    Starsky laid a hand on the blond's shoulder and squeezed gently. "I wish I could tell you what you need to hear, Hutch. I don't have all the answers. I don't think anyone does. I'm not proud of some of the things we've done. We crossed the line more than once, and people got hurt because of it. God knows, we never meant for them to. If I could take it all back and make everything turn out right, I would. But that's not the way it works. All we can do is the best we can, and it's up to each of us to decide if it's worth it or not."
    "That's just it, Starsk. I don't know if it's worth it or not any more. When I think of going back, it scares me. Who's going to pay the price next time? And when it's all said and done, who's going to care?"
    Starsky motioned outside the window. "They care, Hutch. They may not show it, but they care. They get up in the mornings and go to work, and then they come home to their families. They get to do that because of what we do. I'll agree with you; this old world is getting in pretty bad shape. But, it would be worse if there weren't cops like us to keep the slime down."
    He turned so he could look the blond in the eyes. "You haven't wasted your life, buddy. No matter what else you think, never think that."
    The blue eyes that looked back at him were full of pain. "Then why do I feel like I have? Why do I get the feeling that the man upstairs is looking down at me, laughing his ass off?"
    Starsky leaned back against the window again and counted on his fingers. "Let's see. You lost Gillian, Jeannie, Abby, Marianne, Anna, Vanessa, and a few assorted stewardesses and other bits of fluff. Over the years, the two of us have been poisoned, shot, infected with the plague, and addicted to heroin. We've been kidnapped, framed, and got too close to a couple of bombs. We're burned out, depressed, and we've started to think we're jinxed. I can't imagine why you're feeling a little down, Blintz."
    Hutch threw his head back and roared. "God, Starsky, you make it sound like a pulp fiction novel! It's a wonder we both survived."
    Starsky grinned back at his friend then was serious. "It is a wonder, Hutch. We've been through a lot in our partnership. Believe me, I know how you feel. I've got my own list of lost loves. I think about them all the time. It's enough to make you throw your badge away. But, we did that once, remember? We tried to leave it all behind, but we couldn't. It's in our blood, Hutch. You can run away from it all you want, but it won't let you go."
    "And if we hadn't gone back, Gunther wouldn't have tried to kill you."
    Starsky shook his head. "You don't know that, Hutch. We'd already stepped on his toes. And even if you're right, there are a lot of other whippos out there that would love a shot at us. And every one of those assholes would be still on the street if we hadn't put them away."
    Hutch looked at his friend. "You seem to have it all figured out, buddy. I wish I had your convictions. Don't you ever wonder if it's worth all the pain? Aren't you ever afraid?"
    The brunette was silent for a few moments. When he spoke again, his voice was almost too soft to hear.
    "I've been afraid, sure. I was afraid when Bellamy gave me that shot. I was scared out of my gourd when Marcus had me in that zoo. But I could handle all of that, because I was still on my feet. After Gunther, I was terrified. I don't think I've ever been more afraid."
    "Why was that, Starsk?"
    "When I was shot, and lying in that hospital bed, I was afraid that I wouldn't make it back all the way. You know, that I would be paralyzed, or wouldn't be able to breathe on my own. I don't know if I could have lived that way, Hutch."
    "Starsky, as long as you were alive, we would have made it. I would have helped you, you know that."
    "Yeah, I know. I'm not too sure that I would have wanted to, though. I didn't want to be a burden to you, or to anybody. What would I have done? Gunther took enough away from me. Thank God he didn't take that away, too."
     Hutch thought about that for a moment, then started pacing again. He looked back at Starsky, and motioned with his hands, as if pleading for understanding.
    "You said he took enough away. Didn't they all take enough away, Starsky? Bit by bit, they've chipped away at us over the years. We've lost so much of ourselves. I don't just mean the physical scars. They're taking away our chance to get married, to have a family. They've taken our hopes and our dreams away. They've taken our sunlight away and left us in the sewers with the rats. How much more are we going to let them have before we say enough?"
    The blond ran his hands through his hair. "I'm tired, Starsk. I'm tired of fighting and I don't even remember what I'm fighting for. I know how much you want to go back on the streets, and I love you for that. But, before I can go back out there, I need to have a reason. We've fought those windmills for ten years now, but they're getting bigger and they're starting to fight back."
    "Isn't the fight enough reason, Hutch? As long as we're fighting, some one else is getting away. We have the scars, but the people we protect are safe. They won't have to swim in the sewers as long as we do it for them. And the rats won't eat through their doors if we kill them first. We can't beat every windmill, but does that mean we shouldn't keep fighting?"
    Hutch gave his friend a small, sad smile. "I don't know, buddy. I wish I had your faith, but I'm afraid I've lost mine."
    Starsky got up and stood close to the blond. "That's OK, partner. I've got enough for both of us."

   Hutch looked fondly at his friend. "I know, Starsk. You've always had faith enough for both of us. I'll promise you this much: I won't walk out on you. Whatever happens, we'll make the decision together. I may doubt this job, and myself, but I'll never doubt our friendship."
    Starsky squeezed his friend's shoulder. "That's all I ask, buddy. And, don't shut me out. As long as we can talk about this, we'll get through it some how. We'll take as much time as we need."
    A rumble of thunder rattled the windows slightly. Starsky looked outside with a frown.
    "It looks like we're running out of time as far as those shingles are concerned, though. Come on; let's get the roof finished before the storm hits."
    Hutch nodded. "Yeah, it looks like it's headed right for us. Hey, I think I saw another ladder in the barn. Let's grab it so we can both get up there and get the shingles on. It will only take a few minutes if you're on one side and I'm on the other."
    "You got it, buddy. Let's get going. I don't want either one of us on the roof when that lightning gets closer."
    The two men rushed out to the barn and carried the second ladder to the front of the house. Between the two of them, they wrestled the square of shingles onto the porch. With Starsky on one end and Hutch on the other, they nailed the shingles into place. They barely had time to store the ladders back in the barn and run into the house before the storm hit.
    Starsky shut the door behind them and grinned at Hutch. "Well, I think that takes care of the outside work for a while. It looks like you're going to get your wish, Blintz. The inside of the house is fine, so we might as well relax for the night and enjoy the peace and quiet."
    "That's the best idea you've had all day, Gordo. Let's round up something to eat and take it in the living room. I brought the Monopoly game along, and the chess set, so take your pick."
    "Well, I know you'll beat me at Monopoly, so how about a game of chess to boost my morale first?"
    "That's not very funny, motor mouth. If you didn't talk so much, you wouldn't win at chess, either."
    "Ha. I could beat you with one hand tied behind my back and my mouth taped shut. You just don't want to admit it."
    Hutch snorted good-naturedly. "Yeah, well we'll see about that. First, we eat dinner, and then you'll eat your words."
    "Any time you're ready, Blondie. And since I'm about to beat your socks off, I'll let you pick the grub. A condemned man always gets a last meal of his choice."
    Both men laughed as Starsky followed Hutch into the kitchen. Hutch opened the freezer, and rummaged around in it. He pulled out a package of chicken breasts and laid it on the counter. Then he opened the refrigerator and pulled out lettuce, tomatoes, mushrooms, and a block of cheese for a salad, and fresh ears of corn. He pointed one of the ears of corn at his partner.
    "How does lemon pepper chicken, corn on the cob, and a salad sound to you? It will take a little longer to cook the chicken since it's still frozen, but we've got all night. I think I saw a loaf of home made bread in the freezer, too. I can warm that up while the chicken is cooking."
    Starsky looked skeptically at the blond. "What kind of dressing on the salad?"
    "I saw French, Catalina, Ranch, Blue Cheese and vinaigrette. So, take your pick. I'll toss the salad and you can add your own dressing. Knowing you, you'll drown it, but it's your stomach and your arteries."
    "Now that sounds like my kind of a meal. I'll get started on the salad while you cook the chicken. But I still feel sweaty from being outside. I'm going to grab a shower while you start dinner. Then it's all yours."
    Hutch grinned evilly. "Oh, is that what I smell? I thought Gertie forgot to wash the corn."
    "Watch it, funny guy. You're talking to the future chess champ of Lamont, CA."
    "Is that champ, or chump, chump?"
    "OK, now you did it. You just wait until after dinner, boy. Starsky the chess master will show no mercy."
    "Yeah, right. Go take that shower, and maybe you'd better make it a cold one, so you can shrink that big head down to its normal size."
    Starsky grinned a thousand watt smile. "I ain't even gonna touch that one. I'll be back in a flash."
    Hutch laughed out loud then shook his head fondly at Starsky's retreating back. He washed his hands in the sink and started working on the chicken breasts. By the time Starsky was finished with his shower, the chicken was simmering gently in a skillet and Hutch was shucking the ears of corn.
    "OK, you're next. Go wash some of that soot from the roof off your Nordic hide. I know your tan ain't that good."
    Hutch took the ear of corn he was rinsing and snapped it toward Starsky, slinging water on him. Then he put it back in the bowl and ran for the bathroom with the brunette close on his heels. He just managed to slam the door before Starsky got to him.
    The two friends enjoyed a hearty meal then set up the chess set in the front room. While the storm raged outside, a friendly battle was fought on a small table. True to form, Starsky chattered away as he slowly moved toward victory. Finally, Hutch took his finger and gently pushed his King over on its side.
    Starsky rubbed his hands together and laughed. "That's it, sucker. Checkmate. The White Knight has fallen and the master of chess reigns supreme."
    "Yeah, well, that's just round one, pal. Tomorrow night, it's a Monopoly marathon. Then the master of chess will turn back into the Prince of utilities."
    "We'll see, Blondie, we'll see."
    Starsky yawned and stretched his arms out at his sides. "I don't know about you, but I'm beat. It looks like the worst of the storm is over, so I'm going to turn in. And since the yard is probably going to be one giant mud puddle tomorrow, don't wake me up early. Like you said, we don't have to do it all in one day."
    He stood up and clapped the blond on the back. "Good night, Hutch. Sweet dreams."
    Hutch smiled back. "Good night, buddy. Sleep tight."
    He watched Starsky disappear into his bedroom, then put the chess pieces back in their box. When he went into his own room, he discovered he really wasn't that sleepy, so he pulled out his guitar. As he quietly strummed a few chords, he thought about what Starsky had said.
    "Isn't the fight enough reason, Hutch? We can't beat all the windmills, but does that mean we shouldn't keep fighting?"
    Hutch shook his head. "I don't know if I want to keep fighting, Starsk. I'm not Don Quixote, and you certainly aren't Sancho. Besides, Sancho was Quixote's servant. You aren't my sidekick, you're my partner. Sancho might have been his right-hand man, but you're my good right arm."
    Hutch turned slightly so he could see the lightning flashing in the distance. Then, he began to sing.

For years I fought the good fight
Believed in who I am
I know that there is goodness in the light
If I'm willing to make a stand

But the White Knight has fallen
And he doesn't have the strength to go on
He wonders when he lost his way
And where did it all go so wrong?

His faithful steed is nothing more
Than a broken down horse
His shield is tarnished and his lance is too small
His armor's too tight and clanks when he walks.

Don Quixote, my hat's off to you
You fought all those windmills
Your courage carried you through
But now the bad guys are winning
Can you tell me what to do?

The windmills have teeth and that one has a gun
The castles are nothing more than seedy hotels in the sun
The moat is a sewer and the dragons are rats
And the princess is a hooker trapped by her past

I used to dream the impossible dreams
I used to beat the unbeatable foe
Now all I want to do is run and hide
But there's no where else to go

Don Quixote, I must hand it to you
You beat all those windmills
And your convictions carried you through
But now those bad guys are winning

Please

Will you tell me what to do?

   He laid down the guitar and watched out the window for a while, as if waiting for an answer. Across the hall, hidden in the darkness, Starsky slowly climbed back into his bed.
   Before he closed his eyes, Starsky swore a solemn oath. "We'll find the answers, buddy. We'll get through this, I promise."

Back to Part 1

Index

go to part 3