Star1

I Can Make You a Star: Part 1

   Amanda Turner cowered deep in the corner of the closet. She clutched both of her hands to her mouth, trying to muffle the sounds of her weeping. She thought about the nightmare she'd lived for the past few months and wailed aloud.
    "I just wanted to be a star! Why is this happening to me?"
    She gasped when she heard the sound of a door being kicked open. With a valiant effort, Amanda slowed her breathing and shrank farther back into the darkness. Her eyes widened as she heard footsteps coming closer to her hiding place. Suddenly, bright light assaulted her as the door was wrenched open. Two strong hands closed on her arm and she was yanked out into the room. The frightened girl cried out in pain as she was thrown against the opposite wall.
    "Oh, God, please don't hurt me! I'm sorry. I won't do it again, I promise. Please, I just want to go home!"
    Amanda's mind went numb as her attacker advanced on her. As she felt the bones of her jaw break, her last conscious thought was, "MAAMAAA!!"
    Detectives David Starsky and Ken Hutchinson parked their car at the entrance of the small city park. They walked past the black and white patrol cars, past the coroner's wagon and toward the men gathered behind the gazebo. The coroner and several uniformed officers were gathered around a small form that was lying on the grass, under a black tarp. They knelt down beside the body and raised one corner of the tarp. Starsky's jaw clenched as he took in the battered face of the young girl. He exchanged looks with his partner. Hutch shook his head silently, then stood up.
    Hutch's voice was calm, but his steely blue eyes betrayed his emotions. "What have we got, Delaney?"
    Bob DeLaney, the county's ME, read from his notebook. "We have a female, sixteen to eighteen years old, height: approximately five feet, four inches, weight: one hundred and twenty-five pounds. The blonde hair is natural, no dye job. Her eyes were blue, and no glasses or contacts on the body. Severe blow to the right temporal lobe..."
    Starsky held his hand up. "English, Bob, please?"
    DeLaney nodded and started over. "Severe blow to her right temple, left jaw bone shattered, broken ribs, punctured lung, severe internal injuries. In other words, somebody beat her to death. Is that plain enough for you?"
    Starsky nodded. "Yeah. Are you OK, DeLaney?"
    The ME sighed and shook his head. He looked down at the still form and spoke softly.
    "I have a granddaughter that's about the same age. She stayed out past curfew last night and my son grounded her. I gave her a lecture over the phone when I heard about it. Now, all I want to do is give her a hug."
    Hutch squeezed the older man's arm gently. "I know. Did you find any identification on the body?"
    "No. We searched the area and didn't find a purse. There wasn't anything in her pockets except three dollars and some change. At the moment, I can fix the time of death between midnight and two a. m. That's preliminary, though. I'll be able to pin it down better after a full autopsy. You know the drill. We're snowed under as usual, but since this is an apparent homicide, I'll get to it ASAP."
    Starsky said, "Thanks, DeLaney. We appreciate it. Let us know as soon as you finish. We'll be at the station, going over the missing persons files."
    Briefly, DeLaney's eyes twinkled. "I'll probably be finished with my job before you're finished with yours. I'll be in touch."
    Starsky and Hutch walked back to the Torino and started for the station. Hutch grunted.
    "He's right, Starsk. Do you have any idea how many teenagers are reported missing every year? This town is full of runaway kids."
    "Yeah, but hopefully, most of them are still alive."

   Starsky and Hutch took the description of the dead girl down to the R&I computer room. As Hutch was filling out the request form, he stopped and looked up at his partner.
    "How far back do you think we should start?"
    Starsky rubbed his jaw. "Hmm, it's just a feelin', but I don't think she was out on the street for long. I don't know, maybe it's just wishful thinking. How about we go back six months, then farther if nothing pans out?"
    Hutch had developed a healthy respect for his partner's 'feeling's' years ago. He finished filling out the form and handed it to the clerk. The pretty brunette smiled at the two detectives.
    "It's going to take a little while to run this through. Would you like a cup of coffee while you wait?"
    Starsky grinned and started to reply, but Hutch spoke first. "No thanks, sweetheart. I have the feeling," he grinned at his partner, "that it's going to be a long day. So we'd better get something to eat while we still can. We'll check back in about an hour."
    He caught Starsky by the sleeve of his jacket and pulled him out of the room.
    Starsky grumbled to his partner. "I wanted a cup of coffee. You didn't have to have one, but I wanted one."
    "What you wanted is that pretty young thing's phone number. Work first, play later. Come on, let's get something to eat before Dobey spots us."
    Starsky folded his arms across his chest and sulked. "I'm not hungry."
    Hutch snorted. "You're always hungry, Gordo."
    He mollified his partner by treating him to lunch at his favorite taco stand. Hutch was relieved to find a salad on the menu, while Starsky's wolfed down two of his favorite spicy-hot burritos. The blonde detective winced slightly as he watched Starsky devour his food.
    "Starsk, do you think it's a good idea to eat something that spicy this early?"
    Starsky swallowed the last of his burrito. "Look, Hutch, I was on a bland diet for months. I've had about all the chipped beef and baked chicken I can stand. I want something that I can taste for a change. I went through all of those damn tests to prove I was fit for duty. A couple of burritos ain't gonna kill me."
    Hutch held up his hands, surrendering to the inevitable. "Don't get defensive! But don't come crying to me if they start talking back to you after while."
    Starsky scowled at his partner. "You just eat your rabbitt food and let me worry about MY stomach."
    As promised, the two detectives were back in the R&I office an hour later. The young woman handed Hutch the printout from the computer. He blinked and looked back at her.
    "Um, are you sure you gave us the right print-out? I mean, there has to be over a hundred names on this thing! Do you mean to tell me that all these names match the description we gave you?"
    The girl shrugged. "What can I say? You gave me the description to put in, and the computer printed the information out. Just be glad that you HAD a description. You'd need a wheelbarrow to carry a printout of all the missing person's reports that were filed in the last six months."
    Hutch shook his head. "OK, thanks. I guess we'd better get to work, Starsk. I told you it was going to be a long day."
    They went back to their desks and started going through the list of missing girls. It was slow going, and very frustrating. They split the files up and carefully looked through them. After an hour of combing through the files, Hutch handed another photo to Starsky.
    "What about this one?"
    Starsky looked at the picture. "Maybe, I don't know. It kinda looks like her."
    Hutch rubbed his hand over his face. "Maybe isn't good enough. How many does this make?"
    Starsky didn't look up from the file he was reading. "Fifty-two so far, and three possibles. I'm getting cross-eyed. There has to be a better way to do this."
    "What did you have in mind, Starsk? All we have to go on is the report that was filed when the kids disappeared. Some of them don't even have photographs, or they're old ones. I don't know what else we can do."
    "I do. We can try to narrow it down some more. Let's go talk to DeLaney. Maybe he can tell us something about our Jane Doe that would help."
    "Why not? Maybe he's at least started the autopsy by now. It's worth a try."
    The ME was waiting for them. "I just called the station, asking about you two. Which do you want first, the good news or the bad news?"
    Hutch closed his eyes, and frowned. "I'm not really in the mood for bad news, DeLaney. So, how about telling me something that I want to hear?"
    "OK, here goes. We fixed the time of death at about 12:45am. She had eaten several hours before that, probably at a fast food joint. She was definitely not a virgin and there were some signs of scar tissue. Either she was into kinky sex or she was raped at some point in her life. Now here's the best part. Judging by the condition of her skin, hair and teeth, I'd say she hadn't been out on the street for long, maybe three months at the outside."
    Starsky nodded, self-satisfied. "Well, that goes along with what I thought. How can you pin it down that close, though?"
    "Come here and look at these photographs. We found two scars from different surgeries. The first one is an appendectomy scar, which is about two to three years old. The surgeon who did this was good. He was meticulous in suturing. The scar itself is small, with smooth edges. If she'd lived another ten years, the scar would have been almost invisible. Now, look at this. The other scar is on her right ankle. The bones show signs of a stress fracture, maybe from playing volley ball or doing gymnastics. It looks to be a fairly serious break. In fact, there's a metal pin holding the bones together. You can tell by the similar scar that the same care was taken with this surgery."
    Hutch held up his hand. "Wait a minute. Are you saying the same surgeon performed both operations?"
    DeLaney shook his head. "No. Any general surgeon can do an appendectomy, but it's likely that an orthopedic surgeon did the other one. Look, let me finish. I'm just saying that this girl didn't get that kind of care in any free clinic. If she had shattered her ankle after running away from home, she would have recieved competent medical attention, but that's it. I know most of the doctors that run the free clinics in that area. They're good, but they're not THAT good. They can't afford to be. Most of the broken bones that they treat come from accidents or fights. They treat more patients in one day than doctors in private practices treat in a week. They don't worry about making pretty little scars. They're only concern is keeping the patient alive."
    Hutch nodded. "OK, so we have a young female who ran away approximately three months ago. She had her appendix removed two years ago and broke her ankle a few months ago. What else? Are you saying her parents are rich?"
    "Not necessarily. There are a lot of good general surgeons and some good orthopedic surgeons in this city. I'd say they're middle class, or upper middle class."
    Starsky looked up from the pictures he was holding. "You mentioned her teeth. What about dental work?"
    "Her teeth were in very good condition. There was only one filling, which she'd apparently had for at least a year. And that's something else. After kids have been on the street for a while, their dental hygiene deteriorates. They don't brush their teeth every day, let alone after every meal. It isn't long before plaque starts building up and cavities take over. All the evidence points to the same conclusion: she wasn't out there very long."
    Starsky traded looks with his partner. "Well, you've got me convinced. We'll run all this through the computer. Maybe we'll come up with an ID for our Jane Doe."
    "You should, with the two scars. It's doubtful that you'll come up with two girls that have those same specific scars. Now, are you ready for the bad news?"
    Hutch nodded. "Go ahead, DeLaney, shoot."
    "We keep our Jane Doe's filed according to age groups. When I was filing this information away, I noticed something. In the last eighteen months, we've had three other Jane Doe's in here with the same MO. They were all beaten to death and were brutally raped at some point in their lives."
    Hutch stared at the ME. "You know, I could have gone ALL DAY LONG without hearing that."
    DeLaney spread his hands. "I call them as I see them. Whoever this girl is, she wasn't killed by a random act."

   Captain Dobey wasn't happy when he heard the ME's latest revelation. "So what are you saying? Do you think we have a psycho on the loose, killing runaway kids?"
    Hutch replied. "Captain, we don't know what we've got. Teenage girls that run away are prime targets for pimps, pornography rings, and even gangs. There's no telling what these girls had to do in exchange for something to eat, or somewhere to sleep. We put the latest victim's description, including the scars, through the computer. We have a tentative ID. We're going to talk to the parents now. Maybe they can tell us something that will point us in the right direction."
    "I hope so. I want this person found and put away, before he or she kills again. Well, what are you waiting for? Go on, get out there!"
    As they climbed into the Torino, Starsky looked over the roof at his partner. "God, I hate this."
    Hutch nodded. "Yeah, it never gets any easier. No matter what we say, it always hurts. How do you tell someone that their little girl isn't coming home any more?"
    Starsky didn't answer. They both knew from experience that no matter how gentle the words were, Amanda Turner's parents would be devastated when they heard the news. Twenty minutes later, Starsky parked the Torino in the driveway of a modest home in the suburbs. The two detectives steeled themselves for the upcoming ordeal. Starsky nodded at Hutch, who pressed the doorbell once and stepped back.
    Minutes later, the door opened, revealing an attractive woman in her early forties. "Yes, may I help you?"
    Starsky replied, "Yes, ma'am. I'm Detective Starsky, and this is my partner, Detective Hutchinson. Are you Mrs. Genevieve Turner?"
    "Yes, I am. What is this about?"
    "Mrs. Turner, did you file a missing persons report on your daughter, Amanda, about three months ago?
    Her eyes widened. "Yes! Yes, I did! Have you found her? Oh, excuse me, won't you come in? My husband is in the living room."
    She walked ahead of them and called to her husband. "Phillip, these Detectives are here about Amanda!"
    Phillip Turner shook their hands and invited them to sit down. As he sat down, Hutch looked the room over carefully. He could tell that the home was clean and well-maintained. DeLaney's theory about Amanda's parents seemed accurate. They were a typical middle-class couple who were obviously frantic about their daughter. The salad Hutch had eaten earlier sat like a lead weight in the pit of his stomach. What he was about to tell them would turn the couple's world upside down. As he searched for the words, his eyes fell on a photograph that sat on the table next to him. He looked at his partner. With a slight inclination of his head, Starsky let him know that he had seen the picture, too. The photograph erased any doubt in the detectives' minds about the identity of the young girl lying in the morgue. Hutch picked up the picture and turned it toward the couple.
    "Is this your daughter?"
    The couple nodded. Mrs. Turner replied. "Yes, that's Amanda. It was taken a few weeks before she disappeared. Have you seen her?"
    Starsky responded with a question of his own. "Mrs. Turner, has Amanda ever been operated on?"
    "Why, yes, she has. She had her appendix taken out a couple of years ago and she had to have surgery on her ankle after she broke it several months ago. It was in the report that we filed. Amanda could have told you that herself. Didn't you ask her?"
    Starsky looked at his hands. "No, ma'am, we couldn't."
    Phillip Turner's face paled. His voice was barely audible as he asked the question. "Detective Starsky, is my little girl...dead?"
    Mrs. Turner wailed as the truth occurred to her. "NOOO!!!"
    Mr. Turner held his wife, the tears streaming down his face as he looked at the detectives over her head.
    Starsky nodded gently. "The body of a young girl was found in the park. She matches the description of your daughter. I know how hard this must be for you, but we need you to come down and make a positive identification. If you'd like, we could arrange for a car to take you right away. They'll bring you back when we're finished. I don't think you should be driving right now."
    Phillip helped his wife to stand, and gathered her purse and their jackets. "All right. I guess we should get this over with as soon as possible. If it is Amanda, we have arrangements to make."
    He closed his eyes briefly, and steadied himself. "Come on, Jenny. Let's go see our daughter."

   Starsky and Hutch stood quietly to one side as Phillip Turner tried to comfort his wife. His own tears ran down his face, unnoticed, as he talked in soothing tones. After a few minutes, Hutch drew a cup of water and joined the couple. He handed it to Phillip, who then coaxed his wife into taking a few sips. Starsky pulled two chairs up closer to the couple, for him and Hutch.
    His voice was subdued. "I'm sorry that we have to do this now, but we're trying to find the person who murdered your daughter. Could you tell us what happened when Amanda disappeared? Did she run away?"
    Jenny Turner nodded briefly. "Yes. You have to understand. Amanda was a wonderful child. She was pretty and very outgoing. She did well in school and was never in any trouble. The night she ran away, we had a terrible fight. Oh, God, if I could only go back to that night! The last words she ever heard us say were angry ones. Our little girl died thinking we were angry with her. If only...." She collapsed against her husband, sobbing.
    Phillip held her close to him. "Now, Jenny, don't do that to yourself. We have to think about the good times, and we have to help these detectives find the monster who took her from us." He looked at Starsky and Hutch, anger mixing with the grief he felt. "You see, ever since Amanda was old enough to watch TV, she wanted to be an actress. She was in all the school plays, and even joined the amateur productions at our local theatre last summer. We always tried to be supportive, but also realistic. We never filled her head with fantasies about the chances of being "discovered". We tried to make her understand that it would take a lot of hard work to become a legitimate actress. We took her to the auditions for Summer Stock, and did everything we could to help with costumes and such. We'd even sit with her and coach her while she was learning her lines. She was quite good, actually. She threw herself into those plays and was thoroughly committed to a career in show business. That is, until Brett Larson came along."
    Hutch sat forward. "Who is he?"
    "Amanda met him while she was doing The Country Wife. We saw him talking to her a few times after the play, and asked who he was. She said he was an agent. He told her that he could help her break into show business by setting up auditions for her. He told her that he knew all the right people, and that he'd discovered several famous actresses. But when we finally met him, we didn't recognize any of the names he gave us. We tried to tell her that he didn't sound genuine, but he had her mesmerized. I think she had a crush on him. The more we tried to discourage her from seeing him, the more she was drawn to him. It all came to a head that night when she asked for our permission to go to a screen test that he supposedly arranged for her. We wanted to know where it was going to be and what it was for. She was really vague, so we told her we wanted to know more before we gave her our permission. We told Amanda that we didn't trust Larson, and that we thought he was going to disappoint her in the end. She got really upset after that and ran out of the room. The last thing she said to us was that we didn't believe in her and Larson did. He thought she was going to be famous, even if we didn't think she was good enough. She ran into her room and locked the door. When I checked on her a few hours later, she was gone. This is a one-story house. All she had to do was unlatch the screen and climb out the window. We called the police, but we had to wait forty-eight hours to file the report."
    Starsky said gently, "That's standard procedure, Mr. Turner. There was no evidence of foul play. Sometimes the child cools off after a few hours and returns home on her own. Did you ever hear from Amanda after that?"
    Phillip shook his head. "No. We put flyers up all around the city and spent days driving around, looking for her. It was like she dropped off the face of the earth. No one that we talked to remembered seeing her. None of her friends had heard from her, either. We've badgered the police incessantly, I'm afraid. They were always very kind to us, but never had anything to report. That is, until today."
    Hutch covered the couple's hands with his own. "I'm sorry that it turned out this way for you. I know that nothing I say is going to comfort you, but at least know that we're going to find the person responsible for this. Maybe we can stop him before he kills another young girl."
    Jenny Turner wiped her eyes with her husband's hankerchief. "I hope you do, Detective. I wouldn't wish what we're going through on anybody. We're not supposed to bury our children, you know."
    Starsky patted her arm. "You've been very helpful, Mr. and Mrs. Turner. I've got just one more question, and then we'll have an officer take you home. Can you remember any of the names that Larson gave you? I mean, the girls he supposedly made famous?"
    He ignored Hutch's quizzical expression and waited patiently for Phillip to answer.
    "I can only remember a couple, Detective Starsky. I know they were stage names, because they were so fanciful. I remember something like Barabara Dare and Christina Divine. He named several, but when I asked their real names, he said he couldn't tell us because of privacy considerations."
    As the truth finally dawned on Hutch, the look on his face would have been comical if not for the gravity of the situation. He cleared his throat and stood up, indicating they were ready to leave.
    "I think we have enough for now. We'll keep you informed about how our investigation is going. The best thing for you to do now is go home and try to get some rest. Is there anyone we can call for you?"
    Phillip helped his wife stand. "No, thank-you. I have a brother who lives in San Diego. I'll call him as soon as I get home. He can be here in a few hours. I'm sure he'll help us with the...arrangements."
    "As you wish. If there is anything we can do, please don't hesitate to ask. And if you think of anything else that would help us, please call."
    "We will, Detective Hutchinson. The only thing you can do right now is catch the person that killed our Amanda."
    With that, Phillip Turner straightened his back and led his wife down the hall to the uniformed officer that was waiting to take them home.
    Hutch turned to his partner. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"
    "Yep. Unless I miss my guess, you won't find stage names like that in any family movie."
    "It all adds up, doesn't it? Larson hangs out at all these amatuer productions, and picks out a prime target like Amanda Turner. She's already got stars in her eyes, so he doesn't have to work too hard to convince her. I wonder if she ever made that fake audition?"
    Starsky replied, "Let's find out."
    They headed for the Pits, to talk to Huggy Bear. Huggy kept his ear to the street and his eyes wide open. If there was a pornography ring operating in the area that used teenage girls, Huggy would know about it.
    When they entered the bar, Huggy's smile of greeting changed to a frown when he saw their expressions.
    "Well if it isn't the brother's grim. Who died?"
    "A seventeen year old girl named Amanda. Somebody beat her to death and dumped her body in the park."
    "Man, that's tough. Sorry, I didn't know."
    "There's no way you could have," Starsky said. "We need your help, Hug."
    "All you gotta do is ask, Starsk."
    "We're looking for a so-called agent by the name of Brett Larson. We think he's into teen porn. Have you heard of him?"
    Huggy thought for a moment. "Larson. The name doesn't ring a bell, but I prefer movies with a little more "seasoned" cast, if you get my drift."
    "Yeah, we get'ya. How about the names Barbara Dare and Christina Devine?"
    "Nope, but I might know someone who could put you on the right track."
    Hutch glanced at his partner, then back at Huggy. "Who?"
    "I don't know if you've been paying attention to the gossip down here, but we've got a good samaritan in our midst. He's an ex-con, named Floyd Peck, that got religion while he was in the pen. The word is he decided to make up for his sins by helping runaway kids. Whatever they're into, he gets them out of. That includes dope, prostitution, and maybe porn movies. If anyone can put you onto this Larson guy, he can. He turned that old hotel down on 8th and Alvarado into a half-way house. He lives there, so you can catch him any time."
    "Thanks, Hug. We owe you one."
    Huggy grinned at his friends. "I'll put it on your tab."
    Starsky winked at him and followed Hutch back to the Torino. Shortly, they parked in front of an old brick building. A modest sign proclaiming the name, "The Oasis", hung over the door. They walked inside and looked around. The lobby of the hotel had been turned into a large recreation room. Several teenage boys and girls played pool, watched TV, or simply talked among themselves. As they noticed the two detectives, the teens stopped all activity and simply stared at them with a mixture of distrust and fear.
    Starsky spread his hands in a peacefull gesture. "Relax kids, we're not here to roust anybody. We just need to talk to Floyd Peck. Is he here?"
     One of the girls spoke up. "He's out back, working on the porch. Tommy put his foot through one of the boards yesterday. Floyd's putting a new deck down. Hey, you're not going to close us down, are you? It wasn't Floyd's fault. This is an old building. He's doing the best he can."
    Hutch could see the fear in their eyes, and understood. This ancient building was the only home these kids had. He shook his head, firmly. "No, we're not here to shut him down. We thought he might be able to help us with something. He's not in any trouble, and neither are you. We just want to talk. Now, can somebody point us in the right direction?"
    A tall, lanky boy with long brown hair pointed to the other side of the lobby. "Go through that door over there and you'll be in the kitchen. The back door is just past the walk-in freezer. You can't miss it."
    "Thanks," Hutch said. He and Starsky walked through the lobby and into the kitchen. Even though the appliances obviously weren't new, they were clean and and in good condition. Hutch was forming a grudging respect for Floyd Peck. Despite his previous record, Peck was apparently trying to provide a healthy environment for those kids. They stood just inside the door and looked out.
    Starsky saw several people gathered around the frame of the porch. "Floyd Peck?"
    A single form stepped forward. "That's me. Can I help you?"
    Upon seeing the man for the first time, Starsky's pre-concieved idea of him vanished. Peck was a non-descript man of average height and build. He had short brown hair and was wearing a blue work shirt and pants. Although he had met few ex-cons that were truly reformed, Starsky admitted to himself that Floyd Peck might be one of them.
    Starsky showed Floyd his badge and introduced himself and Hutch. "Mr. Peck, a friend of ours suggested that you might be able to help us with a case we're working on. Is there somewhere private where we can talk?"
    "Sure, we can go into my office. It's not much, but we won't be disturbed there."
    He turned to one of the boys and said, "Larry, you guys keep working and I'll be back shortly. Make sure you measure those boards and nail them down tight. We don't want any more mishaps."
    Larry nodded, "Sure, Floyd. We'll do it just like you showed us."
    Floyd led the two detectives into his small office. "Now, what can I do for you? I hope none of the kids is in trouble."
    Hutch shook his head. "No, we're hoping you can give us some information on another runaway teen. Her name was Amanda Turner."
    "Yeah, I remember Amanda. She's a good kid with a great big dream. She wanted to be a movie star, but didn't have a clue about how dangerous this town could be. What do you want to know?"
    Starsky gestured around the room. "Then, she did stay here?"
    "Yeah, she showed up here one night with nothing but a small suitcase and a few bucks in her pocket. She had a big fight with her parents, and decided to strike out on her own. Sorry for the cliche`, but that's how she put it. I tried to tell her how it was, but whenever I tried to push too hard, she got upset. I didn't want her to take off, so I cooled it. She hasn't been around for a few days, but I figured she finally made up with her parents and went back home."
    Hutch thought for a moment. "Did she ever mention a man by the name of Brett Larson?"
    "Yeah, she did. I tried to warn her about him, but she wouldn't listen. He's nothing but a pimp in a director's suit. He calls himself an agent. The kind of movies he makes, you don't want to take your kids to, let alone let them star in. I'm surprised he's still operating."
    Starsky's expression was grim. "He won't be for long, if we have anything to say about it. Amanda Turner didn't go home. She was murdered."
    Floyd sat back in his chair. "My God. Do you think Larson did it? I mean, the man's as slimy as they come, but...a murderer? That's a new low, even for him."
    "Right now, we're just trying to get at the bottom of this. We have reason to believe that Larson was the last person to see Amanda alive, or one of the last."
    "Well, if there's anything I can do, just ask. Man, I'm sorry to hear that. She was a sweet kid."
    Hutch nodded slightly. "Yes, that's what we've been hearing. We've been looking for Larson, but no one seems to know where his so-called studio is. You wouldn't happen to know, would you?"
    "As a matter of fact, I do. Larson's been around longer than I have. He's one of the first scum-bums I ran up against when I opened this home. He doesn't care if they're male or female, as long as they're young. Of course, he makes sure they're not too young. He checks to make sure they're at least sixteen, as if that makes what he's doing any better. He's still pushing these kids into something they don't want to do. His studio is on South Central Avenue. It's behind a bar called Mike's Pub. Everything's boarded up so you can't see in from the street. The only entrance is in the alley. Be careful, because he usually has a couple of apes standing guard. Larson is a night owl, so he's not usually there until late afternoon."
    Starsky smiled at Peck. "OK, thanks for the tip. Oh, and don't worry; we'll be careful. It won't be the first time we've ran up against people like Larson."
    "I believe you, Detective. You know, I hope you put Larson away real soon. These kids have enough to worry about without Larson and his 'production company'."
    "We know. We'll keep in touch, Mr. Peck."
    Starsky and Hutch walked back through the half-way house, waving at the kids as they passed. Outside, Starsky turned to his partner.
    "Well, buddy, let's go see the director. How would you like to be in pictures?"
    Hutch snorted. "Not this kind, I wouldn't. Besides, I think I'm a little too old for Larson's taste."
    "Yeah, well, let's go burst his bubble. What did you think of Peck, by the way? Does he seem real to you?"
    Hutch rubbed his chin. "Yeah, he did. I know what you're thinking, Starsk, but people really can change. Why? Did you catch something I didn't?"
    "No, I guess it was just my gut talking to me. Like you said, people can change. I just haven't seen too many ex-cons that turned out to be for real. I think I'll run him through R&I. I'm curious to know why he was in the pen, and for how long."
    "Good idea, Starsk. Now, let's go see us a porn king."
    Starsky grinned, "Gee, I've never been that close to royalty before. Should we curtsy?"

   The two detectives went back to the station, since they knew Larson wouldn't be at the studio until later that day. While they were waiting, Starsky called R&I and requested the file on Floyd Peck. It didn't take long for the clerk to bring them the file. Starsky took it from the clerk and skimmed through it. He looked up at Hutch.
    "Peck was in minimum security lock-up at the state pen. He's a paper hanger. It was his second conviction, so he did eighteen months of a three year sentence. The only other prior he had is a DUI three years before that. Well, at least he's not violent."
    Hutch studied his partner carefully. "But you're still not convinced, are you?"
    Starsky sighed. "I don't know. I guess I'm just worried about those kids. It seems like they've got a good thing going at the house. I'd hate to have to yank it out from under them."
    "Well, maybe we won't have to. Why don't we log out for a few hours? We can go home, get a bite to eat, and rest a bit. We can't see Larson until this afternoon. I figure he should be there by five or so. You want to pick me up then?"
    "Sure, why not? I could use a little fresh air. Let's blow this joint, before Dobey finds something for us to do."
    They both went home and waited until it was time to go to see Larson. Starsky picked Hutch up and drove down to the location Floyd Peck had given them. He parked on the side street, and the two men walked down the alley to the back of the bar. The information Peck had given them was right on the money. The back of the building was completely closed in, and there was no way to see what was going on inside. The two "apes" were there, also. Starsky and Hutch walked up to them.
    Starsky stopped in front of the sentries. "Well, if it isn't Grape Ape and Magilla Gorilla. How're you doing, boys?"
    One of the thugs jeered, "Ha ha. What do you want, pigs?"
    "Now, was that nice? We just wanted to say hello, and you cop this attitude with us. I don't think that was very nice, do you, Hutch?"
    "Nope. I think we should forget about being sociable and get right to the point." He stopped talking and looked at the two goons. His voice was calm, but his eyes were glacial. "We want to see Larson. Now. You can either let us in, or we can go through you. It's your choice."
    The two guards sneered at each other, and stepped farther apart. Before they could attack the two detectives, Starsky raised his hands and clapped them together sharply, with the head of the closest thug between his palms. At the same time, he brought his knee up between the man's legs. Starsky's quarry let out a high pitched squeal and collapsed on the ground.
    Hutch's target let out a roar and advanced on Starsky. As soon as his back was to Hutch, the blonde detective raised his foot and kicked the thug in his backside, sending him into the brick wall as Starsky stepped out of the way. The thug's head hit the wall, and for a moment, he was still, bent over with his head resting against the wall. A few seconds later, he shook his head, straightened up and turned around. Before he could move again, Hutch grabbed the lid off of a metal trash can and held it out at arm's length, in front of his body. The enraged bodyguard bellowed again, and started toward Hutch. Instead of punching the blonde detective, the man hit the metal lid. As he bent over once again, holding his injured hand, Hutch brought the lid down hard on his head. Finally, the man sat down on the pavement, and fell back, unconscious.
    Starsky and Hutch drywashed their hands, and Starsky opened the back door.
    "After you," he said.
    "Why, thank-you, Ollie," Hutch said as he stepped through the door.
    They walked down a narrow hall until they encountered another door. This one wasn't guarded. Apparently, the two sentries outside were supposed to discourage any spectators from entering the studio. Starsky tried the door and found that it was unlocked. He waited for Hutch to position himself on the other side of the door, and then walked in to the studio. Their cautious entrance was completely ignored. The first thing they saw was the equipment that lined the walls. Camera's, lights and cables ran all around the room. They walked between the cameras and on to the set. Several bright lights hung from the ceiling. There was large bed in the center of the set, with a two young girls on it. They were rehearsing their lines, with microphones hanging in front of the bed.
    Starsky whispered to Hutch. "I didn't know there was any talking in these things. Wonder what they're saying?"
    "You can bet it's not MacBeth."
    Starsky snorted. "Willy would roll over in his grave."
    They pushed their way into the room. Instantly, all activity stopped. The scantily clad actresseses grabbed robes from beside the bed and covered themselves.
    Starsky and Hutch held their badges up for everyone to see. Starsky walked around the perimeter of the room.    "Okay, folks, take five. We're looking for Brett Larson. Come out, come out, where ever you are!"
    Hutch walked in the opposite direction, searching the room as he walked. He stopped in front of the bed, and squatted down. He looked the two girls over, his gaze settling on the brunette that was glaring up at him.
    "How old are you, sweetheart?"
    "Old enough to do what I damn well please!"
    Hutch laughed sarcastically. "Sure you are. You got an ID on you?"
    She snarled at him. "Does it look like this get-up has a pocket? Get lost, cop."
    A male voice spoke from behind the lights. "She's eighteen. All my stars are of legal age. I have copies of their identification cards if you want to see them."
    Hutch turned around and got his first look at Brett Larson. Larson was several inches shorter than the detective, with a slim build and dark hair. Hutch saw immediately why Amanda Turner would have been attracted to him. Larson looked like the boy next door. His clothes were conservative, but expensive. The gold polo shirt and tan slacks didn't come off a rack, nor did the brown Oxfords that he wore.
    Starsky looked like he had eaten something sour as he walked slowly over to Larson. "No, thanks. I'm sure you have their birth certificates to go along with the fake ID's, but that's not why we're here. We want to ask you a few questions about Amanda Turner."
    "What about her?"
    Hutch joined his partner. "Did you know that she was dead?"
    The brunette that had talked back to Hutch gasped. Larson swung around and growled, "Shut up! Get out of here, all of you! Go to the back and touch up your make-up and hair. You two look like a couple of mangy hounds. I said GO!"
    Everyone in the room scattered, leaving the detectives alone with Larson. After the set was cleared, Larson turned back to Starsky and Hutch. His face was devoid of emotion.
    "So Amanda's dead, huh? I figured she went running back to mommy and daddy. What happened?"
    Hutch didn't try to hide his dislike for the man. "She was beaten to death. Whoever dumped her body in the park didn't do a good job of hiding her. We figure she was killed around a quarter to one in the morning, and her body was found a few hours later. Apparently, whoever did it wasn't too worried about getting caught. According to the witnesses we've interviewed so far, you were probably the last person to see Amanda alive."
    "Oh, no, cop! You aren't going to pin that one on me! In case you haven't noticed, I'm in the movie business. We always start shooting around five in the afternoon and shoot through most of the night. I got at least twenty witnesses that can prove where I was just about any night of the week. Besides, I told you that I thought she went back home. She was a momma's girl. She didn't like it out here in the big, bad world. I didn't have nothing to do with her death."
    Starsky moved a step closer. "Well then, you wouldn't mind answering a few questions."
    "Like what? I already told you that I didn't know anything."
    Hutch's blue eyes turned to steel. He pointed his finger at Larson. "Look, scum, there's a seventeen year old girl lying on a slab in the morgue. I'm not going to dance with you. We know that you lured Amanda away from her parents. We can prove that you were hanging around one of the plays that she was in. We know that she was going to do a screen test for one of your...movies. Since Amanda was NOT eighteen years old yet, we can run you in right now for contributing to the deliquency of a minor. That will hold you until we can check the ID's of these other kids. Since you're currently engaged in making a pornographic movie, we can add violation of obscenity laws to the list. NOW, are you going to co-operate, or do we just save our breath and take you down town?"
    Larson stepped back. He swallowed nervously. "All right, what do you want to know?"
    Starsky sighed. "Finally. How long was Amanda here?"
    "About three months. I started her out real slow. I knew she would take some time to get used to everything, so I didn't make her do any hardcore scenes. A couple of the older girls let her hang around with them. She didn't know the first thing about making a movie. She did real good on her screen test, but she was still real shy. I knew she was worth waiting for, so I didn't push."
    Hutch asked, "So, why did she leave?"
    "She couldn't handle working with the guys. She'd do fine until one of them touched her, then she'd freak out. I don't know. Maybe she was frigid. Maybe her mommy told her scary stories to make sure she stayed a virgin. I even tried giving her a Valium, but it didn't do any good. That's why I figured she went back home. She couldn't cut it on the streets. And it's a cinch that if she stayed out here some pimp would have picked her up sooner or later."
    "So you didn't force her into one of your more graphic scenes?"
    "I told you that I didn't! Look, she was a beautiful kid. She's just what my customer's are looking for. They like fresh faces, the younger the better. I thought she'd thaw out if I gave her enough time. It just didn't work out. She ran out of here one night, crying her eyes out. I never saw her again. I don't know what happened after that."
    "Do you know where she stayed after she ran away from home?"
    "Yeah, she stayed with that do-gooder, Floyd Peck. Man, he really tried to put the hurts on me. He did his damnedest to keep her away from me, but she wouldn't listen. She wanted to be a movie star and was willing to do anything for a break. Or, she thought she was."
    Starsky glanced at Hutch, then back at Larson. "Did she ever say anything to you about being raped?"
    "Raped?! No, man, she didn't! I didn't have nothing to do with that! I treat my actresses right. I don't do that kinky stuff. If she was raped, it didn't happen while she was here. I swear!"
    Hutch spread his hands out in a soothing gesture. "OK, we believe you. But, that might explain her reactions to the scenes you tried to set up." He looked over at Starsky, and raised an eyebrow. Starsky shook his head slightly. Hutch turned back to Larson. "OK, I guess that's it for now. I'm sure you're not planning to go out of town on location, but if it crosses your mind, DON'T. If we have any more questions, we'll be in touch."
    They left the studio and walked back to the Torino. Starsky glanced at his partner.
    "Well, what do you think?"
    Hutch opened the car door and started to climb in. "I think somebody's lying to us. The only question is: who?"
    Starsky shrugged. "Larson, Peck, or both. Take your pick. I've got another question. If Amanda never got "her feet wet", if you'll pardon the expression, who raped her?"
    Hutch was grim. "Maybe when we find that out, we'll find out who killed her."

      "Well, we can put both Peck and Larson with Amanda, but not at the time she was murdered."
     Starsky and Hutch sat in Dobey's office, eating lunch and going over the case. Starsky had his feet propped up on the Captain's desk, and was balancing his plate in his lap. He held half his sandwich in one hand and punctuated his remark with the other hand.
    Dobey grumbled, "That and a dime will get you a cup of coffee. You've been on this case for days now, and what you've got is a whole lot of nothing."
    Hutch protested, "That's not true, Captain. We know Amanda Turner stayed with Peck, and we know Larson was trying to get her into one of his skin-flicks. They both said they thought Amanda had gone home to her parents. Larson said that Amanda never made it in front of the camera. We figure it was because of the rape, but he swears he didn't know anything about it."
    Dobey looked up from his plate. "Does Peck know that she was raped?"
    Starsky shrugged. "We didn't tell him and he never mentioned it. We also know that Peck and Larson can't stand each other. It could be that Amanda got caught in a tug of war with those two, and couldn't handle it. She took off, maybe to go back home, and was killed before she got there."
    "Do you think somebody grabbed her and raped her before she was killed? Maybe BOTH your suspects are telling the truth and someone else murdered her. Which puts us right back at square one."
    Hutch shook his head. "DeLaney said she was raped long before she was murdered. It's a fairly safe bet that she was raped AFTER she ran away but that's just the impression we got."
    "What about her parents? Have you checked them out?"
    Starsky gulped his coffee. "No. Why?"
    Dobey glared at his detectives. "It's SOP, that's why. You check out everyone involved. You're taking their word that everything was hunky-dory at home and Amanda ran away because she was star-struck. Check with family services and see if they were as happy as they say."
    Starsky finished the last of his sandwich and got up, with Hutch right behind him. He dropped the paper plate in the trash can and picked up his jacket.
    "OK, Cap, we'll check'em out. We'll pay DeLaney another visit, too, and see if he can come up with anything else. One thing's for sure; there is one person that had to see Amanda before she was killed."
    Dobey scowled. "And who would that be?"
    Starsky was serious. "Her killer. If we're real lucky, someone saw him or her with Amanda and can tell us who it was."
    "Then what are you standing around here for? Go on, get out there! Don't forget there are three other Jane Doe's with the same MO in the morgue. I don't want a fifth body showing up."
    Hutch followed his partner to the door. He stopped and turned back to Dobey. "Neither do we, Cap."
    The two detectives went to the Department of Children and Family Services to check on Phillip and Genevieve Turner. They showed their badges to the receptionist and were ushered into a small office. A few minutes later they heard rapid foot steps coming toward them. A matronly woman in her mid-fifties rushed into the room.
    "I'm sorry to keep you waiting, officers, but we're seriously understaffed here, and two of our case workers are out sick. So what else is new, right? Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Jan Langstrom. How can I help you?"
    Hutch got right to the point. "Mrs. Langstrom, we're investigating the death of Amanda Turner. She was seventeen at the time of her death. Her parents are Phillip and Genevieve Turner. We'd like to know if there were any problems with the family that may have been reported."
    "The name doesn't sound familiar, but we handle several hundred cases at a time. I assume that you suspect foul play? Do you have any evidence of abuse or neglect?"
    Starsky replied. "Not at this point, Mrs. Langstrom. We're conducting a routine investigation right now. Amanda ran away from home about three months ago. Her parents say it was because she wanted to be an actress, and they had a fight about someone she was seeing. We'd like to know if there were any other problems at home."
    "Well, I can check our files and talk to the other case workers, but I'm afraid that will take some time. If you'll leave your number with me, I'll call you if I find anything."
    Hutch handed her a card. "We realize how busy you are, but the sooner we get the information, the better. If we don't find out who murdered Amanda soon, we may never know who did it. If you find anything on the family, please call us as soon as possible, no matter what time it is."
    "Of course, Detective Hutchinson. I'll make this a priority one case. Hopefully, I'll know by tomorrow if we have a file on the Turners. If I don't call you, then you'll know we don't have a file on them at all."
    Starsky and Hutch left the office and drove to Huggy's. They ordered a beer and moved to a table. Huggy brought one for himself and sat down.
    "What it is, fellas? How goes the porn case?"
    Starsky scowled. "It's goin' no where, Hug. We got all kinds of suspects, but only a shaky motive, and no evidence. Larson swears he has an alibi, and Peck said Amanda left his place after he warned her about Larson. We're running a check on the parents, but I ain't holdin' my breath. We're runnin' around in circles and gettin' no where fast."
    "It sounds like it. I've got a few feelers out, but so far, nothing's happening. Larson is a pervert, but everyone already knows that. As for him bein' a killer, well my sources say he doesn't have the backbone for it. He'd run if you yelled "Boo!" at him. That's why he keeps those bodyguards around."
    "What about Peck?" Hutch asked.
    "He's pure as the driven snow. Sorry, fellas, but that's what I hear. The folks who sell those funny little cigarettes don't care too much for him, but they've got a live and let live attitude as long as Peck keeps his nose out of their business. There's plenty of grown-ups around that want their merchandise. Peck doesn't care what they do as long as they leave his kids alone."
    "What about the pimps? I know Daddy Fred likes to pick up young girls for his crib. Did they ever butt heads?"
    Huggy shook his head. "Not that I've heard. Fred's smart. He treats his girls right, so they don't run off. That's why they call him 'Daddy'. He doesn't rough them up, he keeps them healthy and he screens all the johns before he sends his girls out."
    Hutch took a drink of his beer. "So he should win the Pimp of the Year award. That still doesn't help us."
    Huggy thought for a few minutes. "What about the other kids at the half-way house? Did you ask them about the dead girl?"
    Starsky shook his head again. "We didn't want to spook anybody. Those kids don't think of us as being too friendly. They don't have much reason to trust the cops."
    "But if you find the dude that killed those girls, that will make it safer for the other kids. You ought to try them. Kids like to talk to each other. Maybe one of'em knows what really happened."
    Starsky and Hutch finished their beer and slipped back into their jackets. Starsky dropped a bill on to the table.
    "It's worth a try. Thanks, Hug. Keep the change."
    Huggy picked up the money, and looked at it. "Hey! That's only 40 cents! Hey, Starsky!"
    The two detectives raised their hands in a farewell and kept walking. Huggy went back to the bar, muttering under his breath.
    "Keep the change, right. 40 lousy cents. Jive chump."

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