Busted...a post Sweet Revenge tale
As the morphine
induced cloud cleared Starsky took stock of the situation. The pain was
intense; burning its way through his body, curling hot fingers round his raw
and jangling nerves, flowing into his bloodstream and invading every inch of
his body. He had never known pain like it; and god knows he had been there
before. The last time, after the initial terrifying numbness, the pain had been
concentrated in his leg. But this time it was dominating his forces and nailing
him to the bed as sure as the cast and the traction apparatus had held him down
before.
Most men would have let themselves go out there in the
parking lot; but not Starsky. His will to live was too deeply ingrained in his
every moment. He had a job to do; a father’s death to avenge over and over
until he could fight no more. The fight wasn’t over yet. He’d made it through
before and he was going to do it again. He knew what he would have to do. A
white shadow hovered, his angel of relief released the
next dose into the tube. He closed his eyes and let the morphine drift him back
on its ebbing tide to a place where his body could recover its strength.
It took two months of miserable patience before he was
allowed out of the hospital. He sat back in the wheelchair grinning like a fool
as Hutch pushed him past the nurses standing in a kind of guard of honor to bid
farewell to the courageous young man who had pulled through despite all the
evidence that he shouldn’t. He sat with the crutches on his lap and stared
ahead as the doors slid open. He
couldn’t hold back the tears. She was there, waiting for him. The
“Don’t thank me; thank Merle and Huggy and Al and
*************
They worked together like nothing had changed. Except
that so much had changed. Hutch was behind a desk or on the streets and Starsky
was working from home. Officially, of course, he was on the sick list; but in
reality, still protected by his own private cloud, he was the coordinator of
all the information that Hutch was bringing in. Together they were building the
rock solid case for the DA to bring before the Grand Jury. Hutch had already
brought Gunther in and the man was till trying to exercise his influence from
the confines of his cell in the
Starsky read the charge sheet and smiled. “I’m not the
only one who’s busted.”
And he was
busted; broken but not bowed. His injuries had left him weakened and vulnerable
to the slightest setback. He was prey to pain and depression; to transient
paralysis of the body and, it seemed to him sometimes, the mind. The solution
was easily available and he had no compunction in turning to it; but he had to
keep it from Hutch. He couldn’t face Hutch’s fear in the face of his own worst
enemy and Starsky’s new-found old friend.
The doctors didn’t worry about the prescriptions.
Starsky’s record showed that he was a non-addictive type. Like many of his
fellow conscripts he had found refuge from the boredom and routine of the
jungle in the sweet smoke of a joint. His injuries needed strong pain relief
and he showed no counter-indications to morphine. His doctor had even
unofficially ‘prescribed’ the use of an occasional joint to relieve the nausea
that the pain relief and his migraines provoked. Starsky was never sure if
Hutch was really naïf enough not to recognize the “herb” on the kitchen window
ledge; he never asked and his partner never told.
Right now it wasn’t just an occasional joint. He was
smoking regularly but he knew that when the time came he knew just what he
would have to do to put it behind him the same way he had stopped smoking a
pack of Camels a day.
“If not,” he told his reflection in the mirror,
“you’re gonna end up being busted by your own
partner.” He was high enough to laugh at his own bad joke.
************************
The trial date was fixed for Monday. Starsky started
to make his plans. He hated the idea of how much this was going to hurt Hutch
but it was the best way. He finished writing the letter and licked the envelope
to stick it down. He picked up his duffle and walked carefully down the steps.
He had arranged for his mail to be forwarded to his uncle Al who would deal
with his bills; the house payments were taken care of and Aunt Rosa had his
spare set of keys.
He drove away, stopping to mail the letter at a small
town on the route. He left the car in a
parking lot on the outskirts of the city and took a cab to the airport. He had
to make two connections but by tomorrow he would be where he could put the Dave
back in the Starsky again.
***********************
Hutch picked up his mail as he walked out of the door;
he planned to read it while the court was gathering. Yesterday had been more
traumatic than he expected; he had given evidence against murderers and rapists
and any kind of low life before, but describing the moments when he had
believed that his partner was dead was worse than anything he had ever done. He had left the court room drained not
knowing whether he wanted to go to The Pits or go home but knowing that he
wanted to drown the whole ugly tasting business in alcohol. He couldn’t even
talk to Starsky about it – until his partner gave evidence he was a witness and
all communication between them once the trial started was proscribed.
Hutch pushed his way past the reporters and rubber
necks and found refuge in one of the rooms reserved for discussions between
lawyers and clients. He looked at the familiar handwriting and his heart
skipped a beat.
Hutch.
By the time
you read this I will have spoken to the DA so you don’t need to explain
anything to him.
I can’t face
sitting in the box with people looking at me and pitying me for the state I’m
in. I know you don’t see it – or if you do you love me too much to say so – but
I’m busted and it shows.
They don’t
need my evidence. I can’t add anything to what Allison or the finance
investigators will say about Gunther’s empire. You’ve
already told the court why he wanted to get rid of us.
I can’t give
evidence about the shooting – all I know about what happened is what you told
me. I remember nothing about it.
I’ve made a
pretty good physical recovery but I need to deal with one more thing and I
can’t do that in California – not if I ever want to be a cop again. And I do
want to be a cop again. I’ve taken the books and stuff with me to study for the
Lieutenant’s exams. I want you to do it too Hutch. I don’t want to find myself
superior to you ever again (the six months when you first made detective was
bad enough) and it’s time we both thought about the day when we can’t run after
the bad guys any more. Oh yes; I fully intend to be able to run after them
again.
I’m going
where you won’t find me. Please don’t even try to. Of you love me, if you still
trust me, you will do that much. Because, Hutch I love you enough
to trust you not to let me down on this.
Forgive me
for not telling you to your face. It’s the first time I’ve ever run out on
someone without explaining to their face….I’m sorry but I can’t do this any
other way.
I love you
Hutch. I need to know that when I come back you will be there to help me pick
up the threads and start where we left off.
Dave.
Hutch folded the pages carefully and placed them in
the inside pocket of his jacket, close to his heart.
“I’ll try Starsky,” he whispered to the empty room,
“I’ll try but I don’t know if I can keep that kind of a promise.”
Hutch walked into the courtroom just as the DA announced that he had “no further witnesses, your honor” and sat down.