Remember Me

 

They were almost at the end of their shift. Memorial Day was only a week away, and the air was filled with thoughts of vacations from work and sunny days on the beach. Although summer was officially weeks away, Memorial Day was viewed as the start of the summer season. The temperatures were holding in the comfortable 70's, and picnics and family reunion's were everywhere. Detectives David Starsky and Ken Hutchinson were working the late shift that week, so the other detectives on the squad could spend some time with their families. It was something they did routinely, and if truth be told, it was their small way of saying thank-you for all the times their comrades filled in for them. Of course, the hot double dates they had lined up for the weekend after that made the sacrifice easier.

Hutch looked over at his partner and smiled tiredly. "Well, it hasn't been too bad so far. We haven't had any major catastrophes all night. All we have to do is hang on for another half hour and we're home free."

Starsky grinned. "Yeah, I guess everyone's feeling too good to be bad."

Before Hutch could reply, the dispatcher broke in. "Zebra-3, we have reports of shots fired at 1579 Big Bay Road. Please respond Code-3."

Hutch groaned as he put the Mars light on the roof of the Torino. "What were we saying about a quiet night?"

Starsky didn't answer as he stepped on the gas. Big Bay Road was at the farthest end of their beat. Normally, it was a quiet subdivision, a low-crime district. The only time police cars were seen in the neighborhood was when a party got out of hand and the music got a little loud. Nothing bad ever happened on Big Bay Road, until now.

They pushed their way through the crowd of onlookers and stopped at the door of a small house. Mitchell Grayson, the uniformed officer that stood in front of it, looked pale in the dim porch light.

Starsky showed his badge. "What have we got?"

"Two people down with multiple gunshot wounds, Sergeant. The girl's DOA; the guy's in bad shape. The ambulance should be here in a minute."

"Is he conscious?"

The officer shook his head. "He's got two bullets in his chest, one in his arm, and they beat the Hell out of him on top of that. Whether he makes it or not is anybody's guess."

Hutch stepped forward. "What about the girl?"

"She was shot twice, in the back of the head. It's a real mess, Sarge."

The two men shared a glance then Starsky walked into the house.  The male victim was laying face-up on the floor, the female lying face-down beside him. The carpet around them, once a dark shade of blue, was now turned purple with blood. 

Hutch gazed solemnly at the two forms on the floor. "Do we have an ID?"

Grayson checked his notes. "The young woman's name is Cecilia Powell. The guy is James Woodrow. They've been living together for about a year now, according to their neighbors. The house actually belongs to Woodrow's uncle. Um, let me see; his name is Sydney Jenkins."

"Does he live here with them?"

"Nope. According to Mrs. Yates, his next door neighbor, Mr. Jenkins moved out when his wife died and took an apartment in town so he could be closer to his job. He works at the Metropolitan Bank."

"So, just the two victims live here."

Grayson nodded. "Yes, sir, the neighbors said they don't have any kids. They're gone most of the day because they both work. She saw them come home around eight o'clock and everything was quiet until she heard the gunshots."

Starsky knelt beside the blonde-haired girl. "She's not very old."

"No, sir, she's twenty-two, he's twenty-seven. She worked as a waitress for Carr's Barn; he works for Sander's Warehouse on the docks."

Starsky stood up when he heard the ambulance's siren. All conversation ceased as two paramedics rushed into the room. For the next several minutes, the detectives watched as they tried to stabilize the wounded man.

Hutch laid a hand on the EMT's shoulder. "How is he?"

"He's as bad as he looks. The trauma team is standing by and they'll do everything they can for him, but it doesn't look good."

They stood back as the paramedics rushed James Woodrow out of the house. As the ambulance sped down the street, a familiar figure ran up the sidewalk. Detective Linda Baylor grabbed Starsky's arm. "Where is she? Where's Sissy?"

Starsky took her by the shoulders. "Linda, calm down! What are you doing here? And who's Sissy?"

Linda's voice was shrill. "Cecilia Powell, the girl that lives here. She's my niece! Is it true? Is she really dead?"

Hutch stepped forward. His voice was gentle when he spoke. "It's true, Linda. I'm sorry. We didn't have any idea that she was related to you."

Linda caught her breath in a sob. "Oh, God, I can't believe it! Why? What happened?"

"We don't know, Sweetheart. They just took James Woodrow to the hospital. He's hurt pretty bad. Look; why don't you sit down for a bit while we try to find out?"

She shook her head fiercely. "No, I want to see her! It could be a mistake. It might not be her!"

Hutch took both her hands in his. "You don't need to see her. The neighbors made a positive ID. Don't put yourself through that. Come on; let's sit down."

Linda seemed dazed as they led her to the Torino. "I just saw them last week. They were doing great! Jimmy was talking about starting college in the fall. Sissy was working and they were going to get married in a couple of months. We were going to a family reunion on Memorial Day. I was supposed to pick them up after work and we were going together. I can't believe she's dead! How could this happen?"

Hutch brushed the tears from her face. "I don't know, but I promise you, we're going to find out." He met her tear-filled eyes. "I promise, Linda, we are going to find out."

Linda nodded and spoke softly, her voice filled with pain. "She was only twenty-two. She had her whole life in front of her!" As she looked up at the two men, anger mixed with her grief. "I want who did this, guys. I don't want them to get away with it. I want them to burn in Hell for what they did to her!"

Starsky squeezed her hand. "They won't get away with it, Honey. We'll make sure of that. Now, why don't you rest a bit while we talk to some of these people?"

She nodded mutely as she relaxed in the seat. Hutch shut the door gently then turned to his partner.

"She's really hurting. Man, I'm glad we got here before she did! Can you imagine her walking into a scene like that?"

Starsky shook his head then gestured to the crowd of spectators. "Let's see if we can find out what happened."

For the next hour, they interviewed the curious onlookers. Time and time again, they heard the same words.

"Drugs, it was drugs."

"It was a drug deal gone wrong. I heard that he just got out of prison."

"Poor Sissy, she got mixed up with the wrong crowd. What a shame. She's just a baby!"

"He used to be a big cocaine dealer. He just about broke his poor mama's heart."

"They must have thought he had a lot of money in that house."

"What's this world coming to? It's not safe anywhere anymore."

By the time they finished interviewing everyone, it was two in the morning. Hutch drove Linda's car back to her apartment while Starsky followed in the Torino. Dobey called while they were getting Linda settled in. "Simmons and Babcock just called from Cecilia Powell's parents' house. They're in shock, understandably. They had to call a doctor for Mrs. Powell. She's been sedated, so I told them you would be by later today and talk to them. How's Linda doing? I had no idea Cecilia was her niece!"

Starsky kept his voice down. "She's taking it hard, too. We finally got her to take a sleeping pill. She should sleep for a while. It would be good if someone came by later and took her to her sister's house. I don't think she should be alone right now."

"I'll have Simmons, or Babcock, pick her up. Meanwhile, it's late. I talked to the ER doctor at County General. James Woodrow's in surgery and they have no idea when he'll be out, or even if he's going to live. Why don't you write up your report then go home and get some sleep? There isn't much more that you can do right now."

Starsky rubbed his eyes. "OK, Cap, thanks. We'll stay in touch."

They drove back to the station and filed a preliminary report then went home and fell into bed, exhausted. After a few hours' sleep, the two detectives drove to County General and found the doctor in charge of James Woodrow's case.

After a brief introduction, Starsky asked, "How is he, Doctor?"

"His condition is still guarded. He was shot twice in the chest and once in the arm. The beating he received caused major damage to his face and skull, and knocked most of his front teeth out. We removed the bullets, but the one in his arm severed most of the nerves and tendons. He may never regain the use of it. If he makes it through the next forty-eight hours, he'll have a chance. Of course, that's assuming he doesn't have any complications from the surgery. He'll need reconstructive surgery for his facial injuries, but he's not stable enough to even think about that."

Hutch was thoughtful as he remembered the ravaged face of the young man. "Do you have any idea when he'll regain consciousness? I know it's a bad time to ask, but we have a homicide to solve and he's the only witness."

"I know. I heard about the girl. The only thing I can tell you is if he regains consciousness, and if he doesn't have any brain damage, you can talk to him in a few days. I can't narrow it down closer than that. Right now, we don't even know if this boy is going to live, and what condition he'll be in if he does."

Starsky sighed then nodded once. "OK, Doc, would you let us know when we can talk to him?"

"Yep, but don't hold your breath. His condition could go down hill fast without warning."

The two detectives exchanged looks then Hutch shrugged slightly. "We hear you. Thanks, Doc."

As they walked out of the hospital, Starsky glanced at his partner. "So, what do you want to do now?"

Hutch ran his fingers through his hair. "We heard several witnesses mention drugs, so let's talk to Lieutenant Wilke.  If Woodrow really is a dealer, the Lieutenant will know him."

"That's as good a place to start as any. He should be in his office by now."

They drove back to the station and walked down the hall to the Narcotics Division. The two detectives walked through the squad room and stopped in front of the wooden door to Lieutenant Wilke's office. Starsky knocked on the door and heard a deep voice from the other side.

"Come in."

Starsky and Hutch stepped inside the room then Starsky asked, "You got a minute, Lieutenant?"

"Sure, come on in. What brings Dobey's top team to my door?"

Starsky grinned slightly at the older man. "We're investigating a homicide and we'd like to talk to you about it."

The lieutenant waved them to a seat, and the two men filled him in on the case. But when they mentioned James Woodrow's name to the head of the Narcotics Division, they didn't get the reaction they were expecting.

"James Woodrow? Are you sure you got the right man? We got him for dealing a few years ago, but he's been straight since he got out of the pen."

Hutch blinked. "Are you sure, Lieutenant? Almost every witness we interviewed said he was still dealing."

"He used to be a bit player a few years back, but I know for a fact that Woodrow is straight now."

Starsky rubbed his chin. "That doesn't make sense. What can you tell us about him?"

The Lieutenant was quiet for a moment as he organized his thoughts. "James Woodrow was a high school jock. He got his letter jacket, his name in the school newspaper, and a scholarship to the university. He was an honest-to-goodness home town hero. He was going to make the big leagues and get rich. Then he got a great big reality check."

Hutch raised an eyebrow. "What was that?"

"The scholarship wasn't that much. It paid for his tuition, and part of his books, but that still left him owing a lot of money. His parents aren't rich. They're just two hard-working stiffs trying to survive. Jimmy worked a part-time job after his classes, but he still didn't have two nickels to rub together. He started dealing in pot to supplement his income then expanded his business. He's smart book-wise, but wasn't savvy enough for dealing in the hard stuff. He hadn't been dealing long when he sold cocaine to an undercover cop. Since he hadn't been in trouble before and was essentially a good kid, the judge went easy on him. He served two years at the state pen then went on parole for two more. I know his parole officer. Jimmy never missed an appointment, got a real job, and kept his nose clean. The last I heard, he was thinking about going back to school to get his degree. I can't imagine him going back into the sewers after he busted his ass to get out."

Starsky thought for a moment. "You seem pretty sure about this kid."

"I am sure about him, Starsky. I've been wrong before, I admit. But Jimmy isn't one of the hard cases I deal with every day. He needed money and he was desperate. When you can make a couple of hundred dollars in a few minutes, working for a few dollars a day doesn't make sense. Two years with the real scum taught him a lesson I don't think he'll ever forget."

Hutch frowned. "Then, if drugs weren't the motive, what was?"

Lieutenant Wilke leaned back in his chair. "Well, that's the $64,000 question, isn't it?"

Hutch sighed. "Yeah, I guess it is. We'll let you know the answer as soon as we find it."

 

The two detectives said good-bye and left Lieutenant Wilke's office. As they stood out in the hall, Starsky punched his fist into his palm. "We're no closer to a motive than we were last night! We walked into a real bloodbath at that house and no one knows the reason why."

"Lieutenant Wilke's pretty sharp when it comes to ex-cons. If he thinks this Woodrow kid is out of the business, I'd bet that he is. Look; I'm beat. Let's go by Huggy's and get something to eat. Maybe he's heard something."

Starsky nodded then snapped his fingers. "You know, even if Woodrow did go straight, someone might have thought he was still dealing."

"And when he said he was clean, maybe they didn't believe him?"

"Or maybe they thought he had money stashed somewhere from his previous life and decided to relieve him of the cash."

Hutch threw his hands up. "We're still playing guessing games! Somebody, somewhere, has to know what went down in that house."

"Yep, and we'll find them, partner, eventually. Come on; I'll buy you a beer."

They talked about other things as they drove to Huggy's bar. They gave Huggy their order then sipped their beer until the black proprietor brought out their food and sat down at the table with them.

"Huggy, did you hear about the shooting on Big Bay Road last night? A young woman was murdered and her boyfriend's in critical condition at County General."

Huggy helped himself to some of Starsky's fries and shook his head. "I haven't heard a word, but that's not surprising."

Starsky frowned as he slapped his friend's hand. "Why not?"

"Big Bay is a pretty quiet neighborhood, Curly. The residents are squeaky clean, just Joe Citizen and his wife trying to make a living. They're definitely not the type of people that frequent this establishment."

Hutch wiped his mouth with a napkin before speaking. "The girl that was murdered is Linda Baylor's niece."

Huggy's eyes widened. "You're kiddin' me! You mean that feisty lady cop that Diana Harmon tried to kill? Man, that's tough."

Hutch smiled slightly at Huggy's description of Linda then sobered as he remembered Diana Harmon. She was a nurse that had been on shift at the ER when Hutch needed stitches in his hand. Later, she followed him to Sullivan's bar. Hutch was flattered by the attention and asked her out on a date, and eventually ended up sleeping with her. He didn’t realize how unstable Diana was until she thought he'd rejected her. She retaliated by destroying his apartment then attacked Linda when she thought Hutch was interested in her. After Diana attacked him in his apartment, she was apprehended then remanded to the Cabrillo State mental institution. After the case was closed, the two men worked with Linda occasionally and stayed in touch. Hutch felt the familiar guilt tug at his conscience. Linda was nearly killed because Diana thought she was Hutch's new girlfriend.

The blond detective nodded soberly. "Yeah, it is tough. James Woodrow isn't in any condition to talk right now, and we don't have the faintest idea about who would want to kill them. We were hoping you might have heard something."

"Never fear, my blond brother. I'll keep my ear to the pavement and let you know if I hear anything. Just point me in the right direction."

Starsky took a drink of his beer. "The only thing we've heard is Woodrow used to deal in cocaine. But we talked to Wilke, in Narco, and he says Woodrow's been clean ever since he got out of the pen."

"Well, if Woodrow's still a player, my sources will recognize the name. What about the girl? Do you know anything about her?"

Hutch shook his head. "Linda was pretty torn up last night, and so were her parent's. We're going over to their house later to talk to them. Hopefully, they can tell us why someone would want their daughter dead."

Huggy stood up as Diane waved to him. "Well, I wish you luck. If I hear anything, I'll be in touch."

Starsky drained the last of his beer. "Thanks, Hug. We're spinning our wheels on this thing. Any help will be appreciated."

 

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