Wide Open Spaces

“The Collector” Aftermath

 

            Detective Ken Hutchinson was having problems finishing the report of the case they had just closed. The problems were primarily being caused by his partner, a very bored David Starsky. When Starsky was bored, it wasn’t pretty.  It all began when crime decided to take a holiday. It was early March, the weather was fantastic, and they had managed to take two heavy drug dealers and one major bookie off the street. The crime on their beat had dropped significantly, which was good for the city, but left a certain dark-haired detective at loose ends. Hutch sighed theatrically. Most of the time, he loved his partner like a brother, but this wasn’t one of those times. If he didn’t think of something soon, his best friend would internally combust. Either Hutch would be victim to the fallout, or Starsky would think of one of his infamous practical jokes to pull on their Captain. Hutch wasn’t sure how many more phony extensions the Captain would endure before he forgot the credo of “innocent until proven guilty” and vanquished the two detectives to traffic duty. If Hutch didn’t want to find out if his old uniform still fit, he would have to find something that would occupy his partner, and fast. It was at that moment that Fate looked down on him and laughed.

            Dobey came out of his office, and looked at his two primo detectives.

            “Starsky, Hutch, can I see you for a minute?”

            Hutch put down his ink pen and sighed with relief. Starsky, on the other hand, jumped up boisterously and was in Dobey’s office before Hutch could get out of his chair.

            As soon as they were seated, Dobey sat back in his chair and gazed at them thoughtfully.

            “We received an interesting missing person’s report last night. It seems that your old friend Annie Oates has disappeared.”

            The two men exchanged surprised looks then Hutch spoke up.

            “Annie has agoraphobia. She hasn’t been out of that apartment for years. How could she disappear?”

            Isabelle Catherine Oates was the name that appeared on her Social Security Disability check, but everyone on the street knew her as Annie. Annie was a loan shark that had operated on their beat for as long as they could remember. She overcame her debilitating fear of open spaces by hiring a small horde of collectors that did all the leg work in her business. When Jack Cunningham, AKA John Gallagher, decided to steal the cash under Annie’s mattress, the ex-child star had learned her lesson. She gathered hungry young men around her that were also too afraid to cross her. After Starsky and Hutch peeled her off the side of her building, Annie had scuttled back into her sanctuary and slammed the door. Now, no one was allowed into her home.

            “Well, to be specific, the report states that she hasn’t been heard from in several days. Apparently, a couple of her employees needed to make a deposit and went to her apartment. They knocked on the door repeatedly, but Annie never answered. They tried looking through her window, but after the incident with Cunningham, Annie put heavy drapes up and now you can’t see in at all. Since Annie isn’t getting any younger, and these two punks were left holding a considerable amount of cash, they thought they’d better investigate. Unfortunately, the locks on Annie’s door are even more formidable than her curtains. So, they filed a missing person’s report on her. Since you two have a history with her, I thought you might like to check it out.”

            Starsky looked over at his partner. “It’s not like we have any other cases on our docket. Besides, everyone in this part of town knows Annie keeps all her cash stuffed under that mattress. Maybe somebody figured out a way to get to it.”

            Hutch shrugged. “After that last fiasco, you’d think her cronies would know better. But, these punks aren’t exactly geniuses. So, we’ll go see what’s happening. We’ll let you know, Captain, if we find anything.”

            Annie’s apartment was in the middle of a salvage yard, not far from where Hutch lived. No matter what time it was, the gates were always locked and guard dogs roamed the perimeter. After their previous encounter with the Doberman watchdogs, Starsky and Hutch knew how to deal with them. They stopped at a local butcher shop and ordered a pound of ground beef. Then they stopped at the local vets and explained their situation. The vet injected a strong tranquilizer into the meat, and promised the two detectives that it was fast-acting and would last for at least a few hours. The two detectives hoped that would give them enough time to solve the mystery of Annie’s disappearance.

            Starsky parked the Torino and the two men walked up to the large chain link fence. As soon as they rattled the gate, two large dogs ran up to the other side. Hutch opened the package of meat and lobbed it over the fence. Both dogs immediately stuck their noses in it and began to eat. Five minutes later, they were sound asleep. Starsky looked at his partner and made “after you” motions with his hand.

            Hutch sputtered. “For Heaven’s sake, Starsky, they’re asleep. They can’t hurt you.”

            Starsky crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t care. I’m still not going first. If you want company on this little expedition, you take the lead. Otherwise, have fun. I’ll wait for you in the car.”

            Hutch muttered under his breath and walked back to the Torino. He took a large pair of bolt cutters from the back seat of the car and cut the large chain that held the gate closed. With a final glare at his partner, he took out his gun and walked toward the stairs that led to Annie’s apartment. Starsky followed closely, keeping an eye on the sleeping dogs as he walked past them.

            “I hope that vet knows what he’s talking about. I’d hate to get trapped on those stairs.”

            Hutch looked over his shoulder. “He said they’d be out for hours. That’s plenty of time to check on Annie. That is, if you move your feet.”

            Starsky followed his partner up the long stairs to Annie’s apartment. Both men tried to look through her large front window, but the missing person’s report was right, the drapes were too heavy for them to see through. Starsky tried the door, but the locks held tight. He looked over at Hutch.

            “OK, genius, what do you want to do now?”

            Hutch answered by pounding on the door. “ANNIE! If you’re in there, open this door! I’ll give you five minutes then I’m breaking it down!”

            They put their ears against the wooden door, listening for movement inside the room. Starsky shook his head slightly.

            “I don’t hear a thing. You don’t think something really happened to her, do you? She’s not exactly a spring chicken any more.”

            “I suppose it’s possible. She could have had a stroke or a heart attack. We’ll give her the five minutes then I’ll break the damn door down if I have to.”

            Starsky looked over the railing at the dogs. “I hate this! Why couldn’t she have her office in the back of a building like normal loan sharks do?”

            “But that would make our job too easy, wouldn’t it? OK, three more minutes and that’s it.”

            Starsky ticked off the minutes then nodded to Hutch and stood back. The blond raised his foot and slammed it into the door twice. On the second kick, the locks gave way and the door swung open. As soon as the door opened, the smell assaulted their senses. The front room and the kitchen were empty, so they followed their noses to the source of the smell. The apartment was eerily quiet, without even the barking of the dogs to break the silence. As Hutch reached Annie’s bedroom, he stopped and gaped at what he saw. Slowly, they walked toward the bizarre scene.

            Annie’s body was tied to a straight-backed chair. Her mouth had been duct taped to keep her from crying out. Her sightless eyes reflected the last terrifying moments of her life. The heavy drapes had been ripped from her window, letting the sun shine in and exposing the open scenery. Hutch cautiously walked over to the window and looked out.

            He shook his head and walked back to the body. Taking the bedspread from the floor where it had fallen, he gently draped it over the body.

            “There you go, Annie. Now you can’t see outside. Rest in peace, Isabelle Catherine Oates.”

            He turned to Starsky. “This must be the agoraphobic version of the Chinese water torture. As soon as the scumbag that did this tore the drapes down, Annie was paralyzed with fear. Then he could take his time getting the cash out from under her mattress. You gotta admit it was a stroke of genius, no mess, no fuss, and no blood.”

            “Yeah, just Annie and one sadistic son of a bitch. There wasn’t even anything for the dogs to hear.”

            Starsky turned around and gawked at a message that was written on the wall.

            If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again.

      

            He glanced at his partner. “I don’t get it. Cunningham’s still in prison, isn’t he?”

            Hutch ran long fingers through his hair. “I thought so. We’ll find out as soon as we get back to the station. I’ll call the coroner and get the lab down here. First, though, I’d better call animal control and get the dogs out before they wake up.”

            Starsky wandered over to the window and looked out, shaking his head. An object below them caught his eye and he motioned for Hutch.

            “Hutch, take a look down there. What is that?”

            Hutch followed Starsky’s finger then shook his head. “I don’t know. It looks like a bunch of rags lying on the ground. Maybe we’d better check it out.”

            They walked down the stairs and around the other side of the building, giving the sleeping dogs a wide berth. When they reached the object on the ground, Starsky looked at his partner.

            “Well, I guess we know where Cunningham is now. It looks like he was so excited about getting away with the money that he forgot about the dogs.”

            The blond stared at the torn body on the ground. “There’s probably a moral here, somewhere.”

            The smile Starsky gave Hutch was completely mirthless. “Well, you know what they say about dogs. Don’t give them raw meat, because it gives them a taste for blood. It looks like they preferred their dinner on the hoof rather than ground up.”

            Hutch nodded. “Steak tartar a la Cunningham. We’d better call the coroner and tell him to bring a shovel. He’s going to need it with this one.”

 

           

 

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