(illustration by Anja)

HOLLYWOOD HORRORS

I left a crime unsolved in The Persuaders…this is the story.

There were two bodies in the morgue; body #457 was male, white, aged around thirty five years old and otherwise unidentified. He had been killed by a single shot to the heart; but the murder had been disguised as a hanging. Body# 460 was female, and probably around thirty five years old; she died of a single bullet to the heart but the death was disguised as a hanging. She was unidentified.
Both corpses had been found in the same place; hanging from the crossbar of the ‘H' of the HOLLYWOOD sign.

***************************

Starsky was reading the files on the two cases very carefully. Hutch sat and watched him. He had already read the files while Starsky was doing errands for Benny Goldman.
He waited while Starsky studied every detail of Phil's report. Hutch reminded himself that his partner had not actually seen the victims; he was suffering from a migraine when they found the first one – and Hutch preferred not to think what his partner might have been doing when the woman was found.
Finally Starsky closed the second file and leaned back in his chair. “Come on, I need to ask Phil something.”
Hutch knew by now that it was best to just follow when Starsky was chasing one of his hunches; so he accompanied his partner up to the lab.

Phil was finishing off the report on an autopsy. The cadaver had been sewn up and Hutch held his breath waiting for one of his partner's off-taste jokes. Starsky looked at the body on the table and shook his head. “What a waste.” The body was not more than sixteen years old and the four bullets in the kidney tray on the table bore sad witness to the cause of death. “I have three more in the drawers,” Phil said, “there's a new gang war going down.” He put down his clipboard and turned to the two detectives.
“But you didn't come to see me for that did you?”
Starsky shook his head. “I just read the reports on the two corpses up at the sign.”
“Whoever did it was methodical. Not a print on the bodies or anywhere else.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes I'm sure. Why?”
Starsky shrugged; “I have this feeling Phil, did you run checks on the rope?”
“Sure Starsky, didn't you read it in the files?”
“Nope. I mean there was nothing to read – that's why I asked.”
“Strange.” Phil went to the filing cabinet and pulled his copies of the same files and handed a sheet of paper to Starsky.
Starsky glanced at the page and grinned. “Vairy eentersting…but schtupit” he said in a silly German accent. Even Hutch recognized the German soldier character from Rowan and Martin's Laugh In – it was one of the few shows that they watched together and he enjoyed.
“What?”
“Well why go to all that trouble to disguise the murder and then do something dumb?”
Hutch leaned forward; “like what, Starsk?” Starsky sighed and tapped Phil's reports.
“They were so thoroughly cleaned and yet the killer forgot to wear gloves when he strung them up. Phil got perfect prints off the rope.”
“Only on the second body Starsky – he remembered to wear gloves the first time.”
“That's if the same person strung ‘em both up.” He turned to Phil again. “It's not like you to forget to put a page in a file…are you sure you didn't?”
Phil checked his desk. “That's the copy…I can't find the original.”
Starsky turned to Hutch; “looks like someone didn't want us to know about the prints.”
He turned back to Phil. “Have you had the results of the check yet?”
“No…not yet, but they should be ready by now – if there is a match.”
“Let us know when you get them.” The two cops left the lab.
“Now what?”
“Burrito or Burger?”
“Chinese.”
“Pizza!”
“Chicken Salad.”
“Toss you for it.”
“Ok heads for a pizza and tails for salad”
Starsky tossed; “I'll drive, there's this great new pizza place opened down near the beach…”

*****************************************

Without any leads Starsky and Hutch still didn't have much to go on to identify the two corpses in the morgue. And as if to add insult to injury the print on the rope didn't match anything on the department's files or the FBI's.
Life went on at its normal pace. They did their paperwork; they patrolled their beat and the picked up a couple of pickpockets.

And a little voice was nagging in the back of Starsky's mind.

One afternoon they killed time by going to the movies. They nearly got thrown out of the theater showing the latest cop movie; the movie was not a comedy – but Starsky's guffaws were beginning to irritate the other patrons. Hutch tapped him on the shoulder and they snuck out.
“Gee Hutch, aren't you glad you signed up for such an action–packed life!” Starsky was almost helpless with laughter; leaning against the Torino and hugging his sides as he gasped for breath. Taking one look at him, Hutch started to laugh too. They managed to get into the car and Starsky took a deep breath in a struggle to calm down.
“Can you believe that crap? One guy solves two crimes; beats three assailants single handed and shoots a couple more with an empty gun (did you spot the barrel sticking out of his pistol?) all in an afternoon…and…he comes out looking like he just got dressed and not a hair out of place, but he has a little blood on his cheek. You know what I always want to know?” Hutch shook his head. “Well you and I sometimes have to take a leak; but those guys…they eat and drink and nothing!” Starsky gulped back another guffaw. He started the engine just as the radio projected Dobey's voice into the car. Starsky took the mike. “Yes…hic…Captain…hic….” He shook his head in despair and handed the mike to Hutch.
“Starsky?”
“No Captain, it's me, Hutch.”
“What's the matter with him?”
“Something made him laugh Captain.”
“Well tell him to get back here – I have something to wipe the smile off both your faces.”
Starsky checked the mirrors and pulled into the traffic. The drive back to Metro Headquarters was punctuated by Starsky's hiccups.

They say that one of the best ways to cure the hiccups is to give the victim a shock. What Dobey had to show them stopped Starsky's hiccups DOA.
“Aw shit!”
“Is that all we have, Captain?”
“Yes.”
Starsky cast Hutch a sidelong glance to see if the blond was going green at the gills; he was relieved to see that his friend was making more and more progress when it came to grisly discoveries.
They both stared at the hand in the lab dish on Dobey's desk.
“I guess Phil has already taken prints.” Starsky said quietly.
“He has; and we even have a positive match.” Dobey looked up at them gravely. Starsky and Hutch looked at each other.
“Why do I get the feeling that it isn't really good news?” Starsky said. Hutch shook his head. Starsky raised an eyebrow and asked the obvious next question. “Whose is it?”
“The print is a perfect match for the one on the rope found on the second body.”
“Great. So now we are looking for a murderer with one hand.” Hutch said.
“Or, an accomplice who paid the price for goofing up.” Starsky said slowly. “Think about it Hutch; he left a print and we got the hand to tell us not to bother looking for him anymore.”
“Which brings us back to where we started.”
“Yeah. Don't you wish you were a movie star supercop; another thirty minutes and all the clues are solved and the bad guy is behind bars; and we get the beautiful girls. “
Hutch laughed and Starsky shot him a warning look. “Please don't start me off again!”
“Get out of here both of you – and try to find the body!”
“Hey Hutch wanna lend me a hand!”
“Starsky!”
“We're on our way Captain.”

***********************************

Starsky was subdued; he seemed to be brooding over something and Hutch didn't know what questions to ask. So he kept silent. Starsky drove along the busy city streets, checking his mirrors constantly and grinding his lips the way he did when he was concentrating on something. Finally Hutch had to ask; “penny for them?”
“Huh?”
“You know, penny for your thoughts – you're thinking about something buddy I can hear the cog-wheels grinding.”
“Remind me to oil them sometime then.” Starsky didn't sound amused. He glowered slightly and Hutch decided to shut up and wait until his volatile partner was in a better mood.
Starsky parked in front of the cottage by the canal in the cheaper part of Venice ; he didn't cut the engine. “See you tomorrow.” He said and Hutch took the hint. He watched as the Torino turned and drove away and shook his head. “Now what have I done?” he muttered under his breath.

Starsky was halfway back to his apartment when he remembered something. He took a left and headed to the neighborhood where he had spent his teenage years.

“Davey, sweetheart. You're just in time for dinner. Did you eat already?” His Aunt Rosa had started even before he had a chance to get through the door. Al's voice cut her off. “ Rosa let the boy into the house willya!”
Starsky grinned at his aunt. She reminded him of his mother in many ways – except for her cooking. Lily Starsky was an old-fashioned cook; she combined Jewish tradition and American cuisine to just the right point; although she no longer insisted that her children keep Kosher there were certain things you would never have found on her table. Her sister, on the other hand, was always trying out new ideas gleaned from the kind of magazines that she picked up by the check-out at the supermarket. She thought nothing of combining hamburger with pineapple and curry sauce and topping it with melted cheese. Even her nephew baulked at some of her concoctions! In fact they were probably one of the reasons he took refuge in reliable junk food. He sniffed the air cautiously. It smelled like meat loaf. Rosa was taking something out of the oven. It looked like meat loaf; but Starsky knew not to trust smell and appearance in his aunt's kitchen.
“No, Aunt Rosa, I didn't eat yet.”
She started to lay another place at the table.
Al called from the living room. “Come on in Dave let me get you a drink.”
Starsky accepted a beer and sat down with his uncle to watch the TV news. He sighed with relief that the case – or was it cases? –he was working on had fallen off the interest-scale for the networks.
“Nothing but trouble right now Dave. If gas prices go on rising who's gonna buy the old guzzlers I have on the lot?” Starsky grinned. “There's always Hutch!”
“And that car of yours – it must be hitting your paycheck pretty hard right now.”
“Not my pay check Al; the city's expense budget!”
They laughed and Al said “I'd like to see ‘em try to make you drive one of those little economical Japanese jobs.”

Starsky sipped his beer in silence.
“What's on your mind Dave?”
“I have something I need to check out with Harvey . I figured he'd be home by now.”
His uncle shot him a sidelong look. “Nothing to do with Benny?”
“No. It's something from when we were kids – I hope he might know the answer.”
A car door slammed and seconds later Harvey was in the house hugging his cousin and grinning. “What's going on Dave? You suddenly can't keep away!'
“Lookit Harvey, I want to ask you something…”
Too late; Rosa was clattering dishes and calling them to the table. Starsky looked at the table and wondered if it wasn't too late to plead a stake-out and run.
Al broke the silence. “ Rosa what in the hell is that?”
“Mexican meat loaf.”
Al looked from his son to his nephew and shook his head. Starsky rubbed his hands together; “I love Mexican food!” He hoped he sounded convincing
“Don't talk too soon.” His cousin muttered and they tried hard to keep straight faces as Rosa dished up a slice of the brown and unappetizing lump before handing round gray mashed potatoes and a dish of gravy.
Starsky sniffed the gravy and raised an eyebrow. “Chocolate?”
“Yes dear; the Mexicans put chocolate in stew so I figured…you're not going to try it Davey?” Her voice took on a wounded note as Starsky started to pass the gravy to his cousin without serving himself. He swallowed and spooned a little of the chocolate sauce onto the side of his plate. “Aunt Rosa, where did you get that extra bitter chocolate they use?”
“I didn't…I figured a Hershey bar would do just as good as any foreign chocolate.”
Harvey said under his breath “thank God for salad!”

*******************************************

Starsky walked into the squad room the next morning looking terrible. He wasn't wearing his dark glasses so Hutch knew it wasn't a migraine or a hangover. He watched his partner inspect the inside of a mug before picking up the coffee pot, sniffing it and then changing his mind and replacing both of them on the top of the filing cabinet.
He pulled out his chair but then groaned and staggered out of the squad room; Hutch stood up and followed him to the men's room.
Starsky was standing by the stall looking indecisive.
“What's up?”
“That's the problem – I don't know if it's coming up or going down.” He groaned and clutched his stomach and ran into the cubicle. Hutch left him to suffer in private.

Starsky reappeared a few minutes later; he had splashed water on his face but he still looked awful. Hutch fetched him a goblet of water and sat on the desk. “You look like death warmed up.”
“Thanks, I feel worse than I look!”
“What's the problem?”
“My Aunt Rosa's cooking. You think I eat weird things Hutch; if you saw what she cooks you'd understand.”
“What was it?”
“Mexican meat loaf, with Hershey bar sauce!”
It was Hutch's turn to go pale. “You are kidding aren't you?” One look at Starsky's red-rimmed dark blue eyes told him he wasn't. “Why do you go to eat there? I mean you know what to expect?”
“One; she's my aunt and she gave me a lot of love when I really needed it.” He swallowed hard. “Two, I needed to talk to Harvey about something.”
“Was it worth it?”
“Yeah.” He reached for the ‘phone and dialed the archive department. “Hi Igor, what do you have on a fire that killed the Wilson family…yeah that Wilson family… I'll be right down…no,” he clutched his stomach again, “on second thoughts, send it up willya?”
Hutch refilled the water goblet and sat down at his own desk; he looked at Starsky as he sipped carefully and struggled to keep something in his gut. “Enlighten me a little.”

He had to wait while Starsky made another trip to the men's room.

Igor plunked a file down on the desk and left the squad-room without a word. Starsky watched him leave with interest. “He seems pissed off Starsk.” Hutch commented quietly. “Yes, doesn't he? Like he doesn't like the fact that I wanted this old file. Now I wonder why that should be.”
He opened the file and started to read, pulling his upper lip with his thumb and forefinger as he did. He grabbed a pencil and scribbled something on a legal pad. Then he went on reading.
Hutch leaned back in his chair and waited.

***********************************

Back in his office in the archives department Igor made a ‘phone call.
“I just thought you should know. Sergeant Dave Starsky just asked for the box on the fire.” He put a heavy and sour emphasis on the detective's rank.
He hung up and sat back and smiled.

In a high-class apartment block a woman put the phone back on the hook and poured herself a stiff drink. She sat down on the white leather couch and sipped her scotch thoughtfully. So Starsky had survived and come home; howlong would it take for him to find her?

She walked into the bathroom and took a bottle of pills from the cabinet; shaking two of them into the palm of her hand she looked once more in the mirror and smiled.
If he found her, would he know who she was?

It all seemed such a long time ago. Many years had passed and still she held a grudge against them all. When she finally returned to the city she prepared her revenge carefully. She watched them all as they went about their daily lives, innocent of the danger that they were in. She decided who would die and who would do the killing. And then she would take her final revenge; on the one whose rejection had hurt the most. The trap was set and the prey was getting close.

She sat on the white couch and ran her fingers over the photo in the High School Year Book. How happy they seemed back then. She remembered the jokes; the jocks who took the cheerleaders up to the sign just to say that they'd made it in Hollywood . The jocks who had refused her advances and mocked her. There had been one or two who had even been threatening. “Back off.” They'd say. “We don't want your kind around here.” One of them had been kinder, but he still rejected her. “I'm sorry but it's not my idea of fun.” He'd told her before wandering off arm-in-arm with Lucille…Juicy Lucy, they called her and every one knew why.

So now, one by one, they were paying the price.

Her fingers flew to the slight scar at the point where her hairline began. It was the only evidence of what had gone before. The surgeon had done a very good job.
The psychiatrist had done his job well too – at least the job he thought he was doing. Her sense of vengeance was still strong. She sighed.
She took another sip of whisky and turned the pages. She had added the newspaper clippings. “Family perishes in fire.” “Police investigate arson in family tragedy fire.” "Grisly remains removed after fire tragedy – forensic experts say it is impossible to identify individual victims.” “Police suspect arson in family fire tragedy.”
The fire had destroyed an apartment building in Westwood. Only the family living in the duplex penthouse apartment failed to escape because the private elevator had failed. Some said that they should have known to use the fire escapes – others said that they were too proud to do so. Whatever the reasons, the Wilson family had perished in the flames. Jock Wilson was a wealthy man – but his money didn't save his life. He made his fortune in the meat-packing business and his company had a reputation for being less than meticulous when it came to hygiene. Few people openly mourned the Wilson family. The meat-packing plant was already in the hands of shareholders – the employees knew that their jobs were safe. The kids from the High School sent a wreath for Brendon and that was all. How could anyone go to a funeral when there were no bodies to bury?
The Police suspected arson – but they could never prove it and they had no witnesses let alone suspects. In the end the file was classed as unsolved and found its way to Igor's archives. Of course Igor wasn't in charge of the department then. He had just joined the force; he had been kicked out of High School before he got a chance to graduate. The Principal wasn't unfair; he was willing to back up Igor's application to become an administrative clerk in the BCPD. But Igor knew about the carton on the shelf and he knew more about its contents than he was willing to admit. Igor climbed the limited ladder of promotion in the archives department. Now he was in charge of the cold boxes; the unsolved cases that had been classified as ‘cold'. Once in a while a case was reopened and Igor took a certain pride in knowing exactly where to put his hands on the carton required.
When Starsky called down and asked for the Wilson box, Igor couldn't help wondering why. Whatever the reason, he thought it was only fair to let someone know.

The woman in the apartment waited, god knows she'd bided her time so far. She watched the news and saw that there was still no progress in the case of the two bodies found hanging from the Hollywood sign; but now that Dave Starsky was sniffing around the trail maybe things would change.

“Time for a little fun.” She said as she drained her glass. She walked into her bathroom and ran a tub full of scented bubbles then poured herself another drink. She lay in the tub sipping and scheming.

*******************************************

Starsky couldn't sleep. Something was nagging at the back of his mind. Something he'd missed. But he couldn't find a clue to help him. He looked at the clock on the nightstand. Two –thirty. He'd woken at one-thirty too. The full moon lit the leaves on the trees outside his window and he sat up and scratched his chin where the stubble had already grown. He couldn't sleep. His mind was racing and he felt like he was on an adrenalin high. He swung out of bed and found his cut-offs and a sweatshirt and pulled on his running shoes. The night air was cool on his face as he set off up the slope from his house.
Hutch had his meditation and Starsky had running. Unlike his partner he didn't run because he felt he should, as a dutiful part of staying fit – he ran for pleasure; for the sheer thrill of feeling his blood rushing through his veins and his lungs expanding with each breath. He also reveled in the knowledge that he could run; the memory of the pain and the terror of his long stay in a military hospital could never be erased.
He let his mind empty of all thoughts; listening the steady thump of his shoes on the concrete and of his pulse in his arteries. He mentally closed his eyes to his surroundings and focused on what was trying to escape from the depths of his memory. He ran on. An owl hooted and somewhere a coyote howled. In the background of his thoughts he could hear the wind in the trees. His body had passed that moment where he thought he couldn't go on and he ran on. He was in the canyons near his house now. The night air seemed clear and the moon turned the leaves on the eucalyptus trees to a luminous silver. Starsky stopped and sat on a rock. He listened to the night. Somewhere a soft-footed animal was making its way home – a cat maybe, or the coyote. He heard the crack of a stick as the animal stepped on it. Owls and night birds hooted and screeched. The stars glittered reflecting the moon and high up he saw its shimmering reflection on a ‘plane making some long-haul flight to Europe or the east coast. He was used to listening to the silence. In the jungle he had been quick to distinguish the friendly sounds of the night from the threat of an attack. He might not be the campfire type that Hutch liked to try to be – but he understood how to listen to nature. It was not much different from the urban jungle after all. If you didn't keep your ears and eyes open and your wits on alert – you fell into traps.
He stood up and started to jog back to his house. He increased his pace and soon he was running at full speed. His full speed had once been impressive; like many quarterbacks he could run one hundred faster than many top level track athletes. Injury and a few years had slowed him down but Starsky could still outrun most people he knew – including Hutch if he was in the mood. Most times though he let Blondie go on believing that he was the faster of the two men – it made up for the fact that he knew he could never compete with Starsky as a sharpshooter!
A hot shower helped Starsky relax. He looked at his clock and resigned himself to another twenty four hours without any real sleep. He dressed and set about a few chores around the house. He finished by making a shopping list and tacking it to the pin board by the kitchen window. He stared out of the window and watched the kid on his bike flinging the newspapers at each porch. The kid was pretty accurate but Starsky knew he'd have to go and retrieve his copy of the Bay City Herald from behind the Torino . He ran down the steps and picked it up.
The photo on the front page stopped him in his tracks.

*********************************************

Hutch was throwing bread to the ducks on the canal outside his house when he heard the familiar growl of the Torino 's engine. He gathered up the paper sack and held up his hand showing three fingers to tell Starsky he wouldn't be long. He picked up his gun and holster and selected a jacket that suited the weather conditions.
Starsky was leaning against the car with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his beat-up leather flying jacket. Hutch never did know whether his buddy was kidding when he said that it was the jacket Bogart had worn in some movie; Huggy said Starsky brought it back from ‘Nam, but he didn't know how his friend had come by it.
Starsky was staring into space and didn't seem to notice Hutch walk up to him.
“Nice day.”
Starsky didn't react.
“Earth to Starsky…”
“Huh? Oh hi. Come on you're late!”
It was on the tip of Hutch's tongue to say that the only thing making them late was Starsky's daydreaming. Instead he asked “Was she worth it?”
Starsky slid in behind the wheel and turned the key.
“Who?”
“Who ever left you somewhere over the rainbow.”
“I spent the night alone.”
“Sweet dreams.”
“No.”
The car behind them honked and Starsky glared at the rear-view. “It's a right turn on red, Starsk.” Hutch said gently. Starsky gunned the engine to turn right with a screech of tires. “Satisfied?”
“Only if you are.”
They continued the journey in silence. Starsky went straight to the lab.
“Phil; the first corpse…did he have a birthmark on his dick?”
Phil raised an eyebrow. “I don't know if I want to ask how you know that.”
“Did he or not?” Starsky's was gruff.
“Yes. I've never seen a port-wine stain there before.”
“I need to see him.”
Phil led them over to the drawers and pulled out N°457; Starsky looked closely and turned away sadly. “I have an ID for N° 457, his name is Vinnie Marchesi.” He turned back to Phil. “He was famous in the locker room! Ok now show me the other one.”
Phil hesitated.
“I only saw the autopsy reports Phil. I haven't even seen photos of the victims' faces…”
Phil stopped. “What? But I put everything in the files. Why didn't you tell me?”
“I figured Blondie must have had a good look at ‘em up on the hill so he knew what they looked like. I was more concerned with finding out who they were.”
Phil pulled out drawer N°460 and Starsky stared at her for a second before swearing.
“Poor Mona…she never did get it right.”

**********************************

She preferred the night; they took longer to recognize her and that gave her an advantage. She'd already dealt with two of them and her third victim was ready to do whatever she told him to avoid further torture. She had made a mistake when she saw him; convinced that he was someone else. When he turned out to be her old acquaintance's younger brother her plans fell into action. He would be her slave; her lure. He could also clean them up before the final display.
She went down to the underground parking lot and opened the lock-up assigned to her apartment.
Her slave was cowering on the floor cradling his arm and whimpering.
She knelt down beside him and stroked his face. “Is it hurting?” She prepared the syringe and laid it to one side. She opened his zipper and started to play with him. His mind was wandering and she had him totally under her control. She waited until his cock was hardening in her hand then she lifted her skirt to reveal her bare ass.
“No panties…makes it more erotic.” She whispered as she lowered herself onto his crotch.
“You want me to give you something for the pain? Earn it!”
It was good for her. She didn't give a damn what he felt. She reveled in his force and when he came she threw back her head and let out a whoop like a cowboy at a rodeo. “I sure know how to ride don't I sweetheart?” He subsided inside her and she stood up, straightening her skirt like some Brentwood matron getting out of her car. “OK, you earned it.” She slipped the needle into his vein.
She gave him a couple of minutes then ordered him to stand up. “We have an appointment to keep.”

***********************************

Starsky and Hutch were sitting in Dobey's office. All three men were holding mugs of coffee. Starsky was staring at a half-eaten donut as if the thing had just bitten him. Hutch spoke first. “What I don't understand is how there were so many things missing from the files when Starsky pulled them.”
Dobey turned to him. “What do you mean ‘when Starsky pulled them'? Weren't they on your desk?”
Hutch shook his head. “No, I mean I read them thoroughly and I thought I'd left them on my desk for when Starsky decided to come back to his legitimate job.”
He was rewarded with a glower from his partner. Starsky dumped the donut and picked up the thread.
“When I came in the other day I asked Hutch for the files so I could see what I'd missed. Remember Captain, I had a migraine the day the first… when Vinnie was found. I didn't actually see the corpse up close enough to identify him. And I was otherwise engaged when Mona was found. So I needed to see the files and know how far Blondie had got without me - which wasn't very far.”
Hutch took the next shot.
“The files weren't there. I called Phil to see if he'd taken them back but he said he hadn't. And I asked Minnie if she'd filed them and she said that she thought she'd seen Igor taking a load of files down to central filing, so I called him to bring them back up. I guess he picked them up with a load of other stuff by mistake.”
Starsky put down his mug. “Or maybe he didn't.”
Dobey ran a hand over his face. “Starsky are you suggesting that Igor removed those elements from the files?”
“I don't know Captain. Maybe it's time for Igor to move on in the world of archives, can you arrange that?”
“Sure; of course it might be easier if I knew why.”
“Trust me Captain. Get Igor out of there.”
Dobey made a couple of calls. “He's transferred to the departmental headquarters as of nine am tomorrow.” Starsky raised his mug in a toast. “Thanks Cap'n.” he drank his coffee in silence.
Dobey grunted; both cops knew that it was his way of saying ‘you're welcome.'
“Now Starsky, perhaps you'd like to explain all this.”
Starsky looked at the contents of his mug and stood up. “I need more coffee first.”
Hutch handed him his mug as he passed. “Cap'?” “No thanks.”

“I recognized someone on the front page of the paper this morning and all the alarm bells went off in my head. I think the next victim is…”
Hutch nearly dropped his mug as Starsky named one of the country's most beloved sport-stars.
“You want to explain that Starsk?” Hutch's pale blue eyes were still showing his surprise.
“Sure. We were all at school together. Me, Igor, Vinnie, Mona, and Billy Rider. I didn't see the link until I read that Billy is flying in for a big game tomorrow.
We were all jocks – well not Mona, she was one of the girls who hung around us. She never made cheerleader but she certainly did her bit for keeping our spirits up if you see what I mean.”
Hutch thought of the once attractive young woman whose body was down in the morgue waiting for someone to claim it.
“But nobody reported either of them missing Starsk…if they were local kids...”
“Vinnie's parents were dead; he lived with an aunt. Mona lived with her grandparents; and they were pretty old. Her parents were killed in an accident and they were not that young when they had her. Their pictures were never published were they? If they had been Huggy and a whole High School year would have told you straight off who they were.”
Hutch sighed and sipped his rapidly cooling coffee. He made a face. “This stuff is worse when it's not hot.” Starsky grinned and chinked mugs with him anyway. He continued.
“I didn't really run with them. I was doing OK with a pretty girl and I didn't need to join their games. They played a dirty game. And it led to rape.”
The other two men looked at him carefully.
“The guys would target a girl and then Mona would pretend to set her up with one of them. There weren't many girls who would let up a chance of a date with Billy even then.
But all the dates turned into double dates – one-sided double dates; Vinnie and Billy and the girl. Mona kept watch and she found a way to draw attention away if the girl yelled or anything.
Then they started picking on Brendon.”
“Brendon?” Hutch and Dobey chorused.
“Yeah. I felt kind of sorry for him; he didn't really know what he wanted. Looking back I don't think he was a fag, I think he didn't know what he was; who he was if you see what I mean. Anyways, he liked to hang around the jocks and Vinnie accused him of making a pass. That did it…they gave him what they said he wanted.”
Hutch gasped. “You mean?”
“Yes Blondie; you understood just fine – and from what I heard Mona got her part of the action too. Brendan threatened to go to the cops and Igor beat the shit out of him. Old man Wilson got Igor thrown out of school for that. I went out east for a while after graduation – so momma could make a fuss of me – and when I came back I heard about the fire.”
He grinned at Hutch. “Yeah I graduated High School. I even got a couple of decent grades along the way!”
“Is that why you wanted the Wilson file?”
“Yeah. I was gone by the time it happened but I heard rumors when I got home and, well I've never been too convinced that it was an accident. Like I said Brendan was kind of strange and he never really liked his parents that much. I think his old man expected him to be more, how shall I put it, ‘manly'.”

*********************************************

She checked the chamber of her purse-sized pistol and slipped it into a beaded evening purse. A glimpse of her body in the mirror as she passed made her smile. She was perfect. A ‘ten'. Her curves were reminiscent of Marilyn before booze and drugs made her frowzy and fat. Her long blond hair was cut in a ‘Farah' framing her heart-shaped face. Her eyes were hazel and her nose and mouth perfectly proportioned. She stopped to check her lipstick and then opened the door and took the elevator down to the foyer of the building.
Her slave had brought the white Eldorado convertible to the entrance. She stepped out of the foyer aware of the security man's eyes following her. She twitched her ass as the door closed and waved across her shoulder to mock him.
Her slave held his mutilated arm below the wheel, keeping it hidden. The sleeve of his jacket hid the bandaged stump. She slid into the back seat and leaned forward so that he felt her warm breath on the back of his neck. Despite the open roof her perfume seemed to envelope him and hypnotize him. “His flight is due in an hour – that gives us plenty of time.”
The Cadillac pulled away from the curb and headed for the airport. On the way she gave her slave his instructions. “He's expecting a limo: make sure your cap is straight. Step forward and greet him and say that you have are his assigned driver. Maybe keep that arm in your pocket – oh hell no, let him see it and wonder about it. Don't worry about the official driver – I'll deal with him.”
They left the Eldorado in one of the bays reserved for limo services and entered the terminal. The flight was shown as ‘delayed fifteen minutes'; they made their way back to the VIP drivers' area. She spotted the official driver immediately and made her way over to him. She stood close behind him. Her perfume had its effect and the chauffeur turned to see what kind of seductress was standing behind him.
“They're going to be late. It's kind of cool here; we have time for something hot. Your car;” she dropped her voice to a whisper, “or mine?”
He grinned and checked the announcement board before nodding towards the door. He led her to the stretch limo outside the terminal. “I hope you're able to live up to this thing.” She said with a low laugh. They got into the car and he pulled her towards him.
The bullet went straight to his heart. He fell behind the car. She dragged him to the shadows.

She went to wait in the Eldorado.

Billy was kind of surprised to see that the limo company had sent a one-handed driver
But this was LA and he knew that anything was possible. The man nodded to him and grabbed his bag; Billy followed him to the car. Billy got a glimpse of his face but dismissed the idea that he's seen him somewhere before. Once you've seen one Limo driver in an airport terminal you've seen them all; just another guy in a dark suit and a peaked cap.
Billy took in the blonde in the Eldorado as he stepped into the back of the limo; did she really catch his eye? He smiled warmly just in case. The city can be a lonely place when you haven't been home for a long time, after all. The limo slid away from the airport and Billy was sure that he saw the Eldorado in the mirror before the driver slid up the smoked glass partition. He sat back and relaxed; he watched the familiar unfamiliar streets. He had been away a long time and this city was constantly remodeling itself like a worn out movie star trying to keep the producers' attention. He was almost surprised to see so many of the old familiar landmarks were still there.
The limo continued its journey and for some reason Billy felt a need to look out of the window again. The place may have changed but the geography hadn't and they were not heading in the right direction for the hotel. He tapped on the glass and it slid down a few inches.
“What's the matter with you? Don't you know the way to Downtown?” The smoked glass slid up again as the only reply. Billy banged on it again. “Hey! Hey I'm talking to you! Where the fuck are you taking me?”
As if in answer the car took a sharp turn and continued before coming to a halt about fifteen minutes later. Billy waited. He tried the handle of the door but the central locking had been activated. He was trapped.

*************************************

Hutch jumped out of the car and ran into the hotel while Starsky found a place to park. He left the Torino about twenty yards from the entrance and a carhop came over. “Take your keys sir?” He was a kid and it was obvious he wanted to get the feel of the Torino .
“No thanks.” Starsky flipped the key into his pocket.
“But sir, you can't leave your car there.” Starsky grinned and flipped his badge. “Yes I can.” He walked into the atrium area and stopped to look at the latest fantasy in the world of hotel architecture. The whole of the reception area was arranged around a large pool and he couldn't help wondering if there was a fake shark in there to give the guests a little thrill. He scanned the place and spotted his partner over by the check-in desk. He skirted the pool and arrived beside Hutch. “Sorry to take so long but I didn't bring my water skis.” He quipped. Hutch turned cool blue eyes on him and said: “he hasn't checked in yet.”
Starsky looked at his watch. “The flight got in over two hours ago – he should have been here by now; the traffic's not that bad.” He couldn't resist it; “are you sure he didn't fall in?” He gestured with his head at the water behind him. Hutch smiled. The desk clerk didn't.
“Maybe he went sightseeing; you know checking out a few old familiar places?”
“Would you?”
“No, but Duluth isn't LA.”
“Tell me about it!” Starsky still hadn't been there but he had his ideas.
“So what do we do?”
Starsky rolled his eyes and went back to the desk. “I need to know which limo company Mr. Rider is using.”
The clerk looked up and took in a dark-haired man in scruffy jeans and a battered leather flying jacket. He looked across the top of his glasses and said snootily: “I can not divulge confidential information of that kind to just anybody.”
Starsky gave an exaggerated sigh and flipped the badge yet again and deadpanned. “Try now.”
He hauled Hutch over to the ‘phone booths by the fake lake and clicked his fingers for change. Hutch fished in his pockets and slipped a dime in the slot. Starsky dialed a number and waited.
“Perry, it's me Dave. No I don't want a job…funny!...listen I need a favor,” He grinned at Hutch. “I see Billy is in town and I wanna give him a surprise. You have any idea where he is?...What?...OK I'm a cop, remember, I'll check it out.”
He left the phone hanging from its cable and pulled Hutch back to the door.
They were in the car when Starsky finally explained.
“It seems that the car never left the airport.”
“What?” Hutch stared at him. “How does he know?”
“They have a call-in system; a driver has to radio in when he arrives at the airport or wherever and again when he's made the pick up so that the company can track billing time. Perry says that the driver called in that he was at the terminal then nada.”
“I don't like the sound of that.”
“Neither does Perry – he thinks the guy is maybe moonlighting it.”
“Do you?”
“There's only one way to find out.”

Starsky hit the siren and Hutch shoved the red flashing Mars light up onto the roof and the Torino careened its way through the Downtown traffic and onto the freeway connection to the airport.
The pulled up in front of the terminal behind a black and white and a coroner's wagon. They exchanged glances across the roof of the car; Hutch asked a uniformed officer what was going on. “A limo driver. They found him about a half hour ago. No sign of his car though.” Deep blue eyes met ice blue eyes “Are you thinking what I'm thinking?” flashed wordlessly across the space.

***************************************

The Eldorado pulled into place behind the limo. The blonde climbed out and looked around. She loved the view from up here.
Billy heard the doors unlock and he braced himself for a fight. The door opened and the beauty from the airport motioned with a gun for him to get out of the car.
“Hi Billy. Recognize me?”
He looked at her again. She seemed familiar and yet he knew that he had never seen this woman before. They were somewhere out of town. Billy looked at the view and then caught sight of the long odd-shaped shadows on the ground in front of him. He turned slowly and grinned. He'd been here plenty of times with girls. Not this one though; if he'd been anyplace with her he'd remember.
“Should I?”
“Oh yes Billy, you should.” He caught a familiar note in the voice but mentally shook his head. It wasn't possible.
She walked towards him and he felt her breath hot on his face.
“Do you want me Billy?”
He tried to swallow but his mouth was dry. Yes, he wanted her – she was beautiful and perfect…almost too perfect.
The blonde grabbed his crotch and pushed him back to the limo; Billy was surprised at her strength. As she shoved him onto the back bench seat she deftly unzipped his pants and he sighed with relief. She knelt in front of him and went to work.
When she had finished she sat beside him and kept her hand on his erection – coaxing it to stay hard a little longer. Billy felt spent but he wanted more. He grabbed her behind the neck and pulled her across him. He reached inside her skirt and slipped a hand into her panties. He recoiled in shock, giving her the moment to push him back onto the seat and smiled.
“You know what the French call it after it's over, don't you Billy? Petit mort. Well honey it's all over for you now.” She held the tiny pistol to his chest and pulled the trigger.
She finished what Billy had started for her while her slave strung him up.

****************************************************

Starsky was talking to a young woman standing aside from the rest of the rubber-necks that inevitably gathered when a corpse or a battered victim was found in an interesting place. “Are you sure?”
“Yes officer, I'm sure. It was a white Eldorado convertible – a collector's item; I figure it was a '59 or ‘60 model.”
Starsky whistled softly. “Hey just because I'm a woman doesn't mean I don't know a great car when I see one!”
He grinned. “Sorry, I wasn't implying…I mean you're right, it is a great car. I guess you didn't see the license plate?”
“No, to be honest I was so dazzled by the car. The woman kind of suited it though. She looked like a star you know what I mean? Perfect body and blonde hair…platinum blonde but it came out of a bottle, I'm sure of that.”
Starsky shot her the lopsided special. “How come you aren't a cop?”
“Because I'm a hairdresser. I have an idea who might know about that car though.”
“You do?”
“Yes. There's a used car lot over on…”
Starsky laughed. “Yeah I know it well. It's my Uncle Al's place.” He made a mental note to go and risk another of his aunt's meals. Hutch joined them and raised an eyebrow. Starsky decided that his partner could share his culinary fate.
“Thank you Miss uh…”
“Ms.” She emphasized it “Ms. Shirley Harrison.”
“Ms. Harrison. I need you to come over to Metro and give a full statement.”
“Will you be there to take it?”
“How about ten tomorrow morning?”
“I'll be there.”

Starsky turned to Hutch. “Time for lunch; come on I have a treat in store for you.”

Hutch stared at the casserole dish in the middle of the table. Al was already gulping beer and Starsky was deadpanning his partner from the other side of the table.
“It's a shame Harvey couldn't be here, Davey, but he's so busy right now; he seems to have business lunches and dinners nearly every day.” Rosa smiled at her beloved nephew.
Al grunted, or maybe choked.
Rosa picked up Hutch's plate and served a solid and strangely colored portion of what he thought might be lasagna. She set it down in front of him and he smiled politely. He raised an eyebrow at Starsky who responded with an encouraging flick of his eyes.
Rosa served her husband and her beloved nephew and finally gave herself a small serving.
“Aunt Rosa, aren't you hungry?” Starsky asked innocently.
“No honey; I need to lose a little weight.”
Hutch probed the strange mass on his plate with his fork and glanced over to see that Starsky was raising a well-loaded fork to his mouth. Hutch did the same and chewed carefully.
His mouth felt like someone had set fire to his tongue and let off a firecracker behind his teeth; he couldn't swallow it and he couldn't spit it out. Starsky was watching him carefully and Hutch steeled himself, chewed carefully and swallowed it as soon as possible. All the boring classes about the digestive system that he'd sat through in high school came back to him as he felt the burning indigestible lump travel down his esophagus and into his stomach. He looked again at his partner and realized that Starsky had replaced his fork on the plate, full. Hutch's eyes were watering as he reached for the glass of ice-water in front of him and gulped at it to counteract whatever it was he'd just swallowed.

Starsky grinned.
“It looks great Aunt Rosa; what's the special secret?”
“Well dear I found this recipe for seafood lasagna and they recommended a little paprika, but I figured that it needed something a little more zingy.”
“Zingy.” Starsky repeated keeping Hutch in his deadpan gaze.
“Yes dear. All those spicy things are so fashionable. So anyway I thought I'd use Tabasco and well the ‘phone rang and I couldn't remember if I'd added a few drops so I added a few more to be sure. And I think maybe the grapefruit gives it an extra twist. What do you think Ken?” She smiled encouragingly at Hutch and he noticed a family resemblance in the way she used her eyes.

A smile played on Starsky's lips. “Hutch really loves that kind of thing – don't you buddy?”
Hutch cleared his throat and sipped more water.
Before he could say anything else, Starsky saved him. “You know Aunt Rosa we were working kind of odd hours last night and well we only had breakfast a little while ago.”
He pushed his plate away from him and flashed his aunt a winning smile.
“Would you like me to put it in something and you can eat it later?”
“No Aunt Rosa, don't go to all that trouble. Leave some for Harvey.”
Al choked again and left the table.
Starsky signaled to Hutch and they followed the brunet's uncle out to his office on the lot.

“A white convertible Eldorado; a '59 or '60 model, does that ring a bell?”
Al skipped a beat and Hutch noticed.
“Are you sure?”
“Al you know me. When have I ever goofed on a car ID?”
Al smiled at his nephew. “That's true enough. You know Hutch this kid could tell you the year and model of a car before he could read; I don't think he's ever…” His voice trailed as he caught Starsky's expression. Hutch stole a glance and saw that his partner had a sad smile on his face. “No, he's right Hutch, I never forget a car.” There was something more behind that statement and Hutch once again sensed that Starsky was keeping something to himself. Something that hurts him too much to talk about . He said nothing and waited for some kind of explanation about the Eldorado.
“Did you see the wreck?”
“Yes – it was heartbreaking but there was nothing I could do about it. It wasn't totally burned out. I could have gotten it from the insurance company and worked on it with Merle but it didn't seem worth it. I let them take it to the wreckers.”
Starsky looked at him carefully. “That's not like you Al.”
“Listen Dave, I had other things worrying me back then – like a nephew trying to keep his mom from knowing that he was….” He caught Starsky's eye and stopped. Hutch was pretty sure that this was yet another thing from Starsky's past that he would learn if and when his partner wanted him to.
Starsky said nothing; then he nodded to his uncle and smiled. “I know.” He turned to Hutch. “Come on Blondie; time to play ‘hunt the Eldorado'.”

*****************************************

Dave Starsky had seen his own fair share of horrors in his thirty two years. He'd seen his father gunned down in an alley and he'd seen and heard grown men whimpering, crying for their mothers as they lay dying in the jungle. He'd also seen other war-time horrors that he tried to block out of his mind. He'd had his own fair share of pain and fear too. What he had seen had made him withdrawn and reluctant to really give himself away; he avoided getting involved in relationships although deep down he still dreamed of a marriage as happy as his parents' had been before a bullet ripped them apart.
He drove along the familiar streets that had become home to him after he had arrived here as a frightened and unhappy teenager who had to be protected from his father's killers. He was trying to remember something specific and he needed this trip along memory lane to help him find it. And he was keeping his thoughts well-protected behind his mental wall.
Hutch said nothing; he stared at the buildings as the car continued along the streets; the scenery bore no resemblance to the neat leafy streets with gracious houses that he had grown up in.
Starsky took a couple of turns and pulled up in front of the high school. He seemed to think for a second before revving the engine and driving over to the sports fields. He parked behind the bleachers and got out of the car. Hutch watched him. Starsky's deep blue eyes seemed to be focused in another time and place. The blond hesitated before following his partner up to a row of seat about halfway to the top. He sat down next to his unusually silent partner. Starsky could be moody and sometimes uncommunicative; he seemed to fling up a wall that separated him from all the people around him and brood. Other times the moods exploded into what Hutch thought of privately as ‘temper tantrums' when Starsky would lash out at anything within reach. Hutch once had to take him to Emergency after he slammed his fist into a wall in frustration; the wall was only a partition and Starsky cut his hand badly pulling it back out of the hole he had made. Hutch waited. Starsky was staring at the center of the diamond – although Hutch figured that there was a good chance he wasn't seeing anything.
“I always preferred this row – high enough to see the game and not too high.” Hutch tried to break the silence. Starsky rewarded him with a steady stare.
Hutch decided to shut up and wait. They sat in silence for what seemed like an hour.

“It doesn't add up. They're all dead. The car was destroyed. So why the fuck do I hear the crowd whistling?”
Starsky was speaking as much to himself as to Hutch. Hutch remembered the story that his partner once told him. How when the opposing quarterback had suckered him he heard the crowd whistle because the ball was in the air. He said softly “is the ball in the air Starsk?”
“I don't know, but the crowd's whistling.” He stared into space again.
Hutch was about to suggest that Starsky talked it through when a disembodied voice started calling for Zebra Three. He ran down the steps to the car and grabbed the mike.
“Zebra Three to Control.”
“Hutch?” It was Dobey
“Yes.”
“We have another corpse.”
Starsky had already slipped in behind the wheel; he turned the key and then leaned over to take the like from his partner. “Don't tell me Captain, let me guess. Billy made his last home run.”
Hutch raised an eyebrow at his partner's strange sense of humor. Dobey grunted.
“They found him in the usual place. Get over there.”
As he drove towards the hillside above the city Starsky started humming ‘Hooray for Hollywood, da da da da da Hollywood…”
Hutch sighed and rolled down the window.
“Starsk stop!”
The Torino screeched to a halt and the driver behind hit his horn to indicate how close he'd come to rear-ending it. Starsky raised his arm out of the window and gave the other man the finger. The car slowed and Hutch instinctively reached for his gun; Starsky grinned and hit the siren. The other car accelerated and disappeared down the street.
“Did that make you feel better?”
“Maybe. So what's the problem, you need to pee or was my singing too much for you?”
“I think I saw the car.”
“Huh?”
“The Eldorado; I'm sure I saw it in the street to the left.”
Starsky checked the mirror and Hutch offered a quiet prayer of thanks for that. The Torino's engine whined as Starsky reversed at full speed to the junction. He looked down the street at the big white convertible parked at the other end and laughed.
“You really don't know much about cars do you? That's a Lincoln! I figure it's a '65 model.”
He chuckled as he drove on towards the sign.

The body was hanging from the crossbar just like the first one. This time there was a new touch. The corpse was fully dressed but his pants and shorts were down around his ankles. Hutch whistled.
Starsky snorted. “Now that is interesting. What do you reckon Phil; was he alive when they strung him up or did he die a happy man?”
“He was dead Starsky.”
Hutch looked from one to the other. “Well excuse me but I only took a few courses of pre-med. Will one of you explain the joke?”
Phil explained the condition known as post mortem erection. “It happens with hangings – or if death is caused by an injury to the spinal cord. But this isn't post-mortem. Like Starsky says – he probably died a happy man.”
It was Hutch's turn to crack a joke “I guess it was petit mort.” He waited for Starsky's question; but his partner just grinned and said “that's what you get for French kissing someone you don't know.”

**********************************************

She opened the door to her apartment and switched on a light, operating the dimmer to produce a gentle glow. She sighed and kicked off her shoes before walking over to the bar to fix herself a drink. Sipping from her glass she walked into the bedroom and shimmied herself out of the dress. It was ruined by the blood stain and would have to be disposed of but that could wait. Right now she needed the high of a drink and the down of a warm relaxing bath. She kicked off her shoes and made her way to the bathroom. Soon the tub was filling with sweetly fragranced bubbles. She placed the glass on the edge of the sink and removed the rest of her clothes. She piled her hair to the top of her head and pinned it so that the curls trailed the back of her neck. As she raised her arms she appreciated yet again her small firm breasts. She knew what was necessary to keep them like that and so she opened the cabinet and shook the two essential pills onto the palm of her hand; she tossed them back and down her throat and chased them with another gulp of whisky. She ignored the rest of the reflection of her body in the mirror.

She lay back in the tub and thought again about the end of Billy. Her hand slipped down and she once again reached the climax that he had failed to give her.

***********************************************

The security room was on the third floor of the terminal. Starsky and Hutch sat patiently waiting for their appointment. Starsky nudged Hutch and grinned. “Did you see the guy's official title?” Hutch looked at the panel on the door and chuckled. “I hope he doesn't see it that way.” They were both trying not to laugh when Pete Highsmith, Chief of Terminal Security, came to the office door and beckoned them in. Hutch eased his long frame from the trendy but uncomfortable chair and Starsky bounced to his feet to join him. As they went into the room the curly-haired joker couldn't resist muttering to his partner “terminal security…could be the end of his job.”
Hutch snorted and seeing Highsmith's face managed to disguise it as a cough.

“Gentlemen…”
Starsky looked over his shoulder as if searching the room for someone else; he winked and nudged his partner, “I guess he must mean us.”
“Sssh!”
“Gentlemen. We have a system of closed circuit cameras in all terminals. Most of the time we pick up a lost child or a piece of baggage that someone forgot – even now and then we get a pickpocket. The cameras each have six-hour tapes. The tapes are kept for twenty four hours then we check them and if there is nothing to worry about they get replaced and re-used. Of course if someone reports a problem then we keep the tapes.” He laughed dryly; “most of the time the tapes just go straight back in the cameras.”

“Most of the time.” Starsky's voice was flat.
“Yes.”
“But you do have the tapes from yesterday – don't you?” Starsky's tone had changed slightly and the hairs prickled on the back of Hutch's neck. He'd come to recognize when Starsky was losing patience with a witness.

Highsmith flustered for a second and then dimmed the lights. He clicked a button on a small pad linked to a projector at the back of the room by a long cable and the first images moved across the screen on the wall.
They watched in silence as passengers and meeters and greeters crossed back and forth across the terminal. After a few minutes Starsky held up his hand to block the images. “Wait a minute. The date on this film is the day before!”
The two cops heard a muttered oath and Highsmith stood up to change the tape.
This time they watched as a limo driver walked into the terminal and positioned himself at the arrivals gate. The camera panned the terminal a few times until finally Billy arrived and walked over to the driver. Starsky sat up straight and started to watch the screen more intently. Hutch did the same. Billy spoke to the driver for a moment then they left the terminal.
Starsky spoke first. “Run that by us again willya please?” he muttered to Hutch “did you see what I thought I saw?”
“I think I saw what you thought you saw.”
The images replayed on the screen. Hutch asked for a freeze. “Can you zoom on this thing?”
“No, I'm sorry.”
“Ok we'll need to take the tape to headquarters and see if our people can get a closer fix on the driver.”
He and Starsky stood up; but Highsmith made no attempt to brighten the lights.
“Don't you want to see the other tape?”
They sat down again and Hutch said “Yes please.”
Highsmith started to change the tape then swore softly and excused himself from the room
They sat down again. Starsky started softly singing ‘…the back row of the movies on a Saturday night with you…” Hutch kicked him.
“Don't you like my singing?”
“I don't like your taste in music.”
Starsky grinned and sang quietly. “Four dead in Ohio ….”
Hutch hit him gently on the arm.
Highsmith returned and set up the second tape and Starsky's change of mood was perceptible.
Cars came and went. A limo pulled up on one of the designated parking spaces and the driver got out. A white Eldorado pulled up behind it and a stunning blonde stepped out of the driver's door. She went over to the limo driver and spoke to him. The camera panned away and when it returned to the limo the blonde and the driver had gone – and another man in a driver's uniform was walking into the terminal. The camera panned twice more and on the third return it caught the blonde as she walked into the terminal.
Hutch whistled. “And I thought you walked with a wiggle!”
The tape continued to show the comings and goings of the cars that deposited and collected passengers for the terminal. Finally Billy and the driver reappeared and got into the limo. The blonde was a few paces behind; the Eldorado followed the limo away from the camera's range.
“We'll need that tape too.” Hutch said. Highsmith turned the lights back up and Hutch noticed how his partner squinted for a few seconds while his over-sensitive eyes recovered. The two cops stood up and shook hands with Highsmith before leaving with the two tapes.
Starsky seemed a little preoccupied and Hutch could understand that. “She's stunning isn't she?”
“Yeah…and familiar. But I can't think where I've seen her before.”
Hutch pretended to do a double take. “Since when did you forget a beautiful blonde?”
“Since I stopped dating them in case my momma found out.” The joke didn't fool Hutch; something was bothering his partner and this woman was part of it.

Minnie wheeled a trolley into Dobey's office; the projector on it was equipped with a zoom lens. They settled back to watch the movie one more time.
The first tape showed exactly what the two cops thought they'd seen. Hutch asked the same question that had crossed Billy's mind. “What kind of limo company sends a one-handed driver?”
“That's not all.” Starsky said. “Watch again. I think that guy lost his hand recently.”
Minnie re-ran the film but neither Hutch nor Dobey could see why Starsky thought what he did. He explained. “I've seen guys with bits of their limbs blown off. I can't explain it but it takes a while for them to get used to the bit not being there. Watch the way he held out his arm automatically to shake hands – like he forgot the hand wasn't there.”
“Our one-handed hangman?”
“Could be.”
“But why?”
“Dunno but I think the blonde has something to do with it. Minnie, sweetheart; would you run the other tape for us now?”

This time Starsky didn't take his eyes off the blonde. But when he asked for a full zoom it wasn't on her but on the car. “Freeze it would you honey?”
He walked over to the screen and studied the car carefully. “Hutch, the crowd just stopped whistling!” Dobey cleared his throat. “Why don't you explain, Starsky?”

“It's not the original Eldorado.”
He shook his head as if trying to get something clear in his mind. “Can we go back to the other tape again please?”
Once again the one-handed limo driver walked into the terminal. Although he was wearing a chauffeur's cap there was a brief moment when his face was visible. Starsky asked for another full zoom. As the face filled the screen Hutch and Dobey gasped.
“No,” Said Starsky, “It's not Igor – he's got both his hands – that's his brother, Gregor, and he was Brendon's best friend.”
He left the room before either Hutch or Dobey could say anything.

Dobey stared at the door as it closed behind Starsky. “Do you have any idea what he means?” Hutch shook his head wearily. “No Captain. Tell you the truth ever since he went back to Benny I've felt a little on the edge of the circle. There are things he doesn't tell me. We visited his uncle and they were rambling on about a white Eldorado. It meant something to both of them; but so far Starsky hasn't explained what.”
Dobey stared at him. “Have you actually asked him?” “No, I- uh – uh – I somehow felt he wasn't ready to share it.”
Dobey leaned across the desk and looked the young blond in the eye. “Listen to me Hutchinson. Starsky regards you as his best friend. If you knew the half of the hassling he gave me to take you in to the squad you'd only understand a part of it. I was happy to do it. I've seen the records of how you two were at the Academy, and I knew that you were friends. And Starsky needs friends. There are things in his files that are confidential – even from you Ken, until such time as he chooses to let you in. But understand this: Dave Starsky has a lot of ghosts in his past; sometimes he can fight them alone and sometimes he needs help. He's the best cop I ever met; he's instinctive and he keeps to the rules.” He caught the expression on Hutch's face. The well-bred boy from the mid-west was breaking through again. “I know what you're thinking. You're trying to figure how I reconcile his working for Benny and being a cop at the same time. But that's just what I mean. Starsky understood that if he played his old role he could stop something much bigger from happening. In the end it was good undercover police work – unofficial maybe, but he got the results. You're a good cop too Hutchinson. You still need to learn the ways of the streets but you have all the makings of being one of the best. But I'm telling you this; if you don't stick with Starsky you'll never reach that potential.”
Hutch stood up. He was still trying to digest all that Dobey had told him. One thing he understood for sure, he would never get to know Starsky as well as his partner appeared to know him. Not for a long time, anyway.

Starsky was sitting on the back of his chair. Back ramrod straight, elbows on his thighs and his chin in his hands. He was staring into space. Hutch waved a hand in front of Starsky's eyes. He decided to take Dobey's advice.
“Why don't you tell me about the Eldorado?”
“OK. Wanna beer?”
“Silly question.”

Starsky's offer of a beer was not an invitation to The Pits. He stopped at the store near his house and bought a six-pack. “I've got a couple in the fridge but we might want more.” Now they were sitting in Starsky's living room and Hutch was staring at a High School Yearbook on the table. Starsky tapped a photo with his finger. “Remind you of someone?” Hutch looked again. The boy in the picture had a physical resemblance to the beautiful blonde in the security films. “You know Starsk I can't believe that if this guy had a sister as beautiful as she is you didn't make a play for her.” Hutch said knowingly. Starsky sipped from his beer and said flatly, “he didn't have a sister.” Hutch's grin froze. “But – sh-she's…”
“That's the problem Hutch. Not only did he not have a sister but the entire family died in a fire.”
“What about Igor's brother – where does he fit in?”
“I wish I knew. But maybe Igor does; you noticed how pissed he seemed that I pulled the Wilson file. I think he knows something – or he's scared; but whatever it is he took the stuff out of the files to stop me from seeing it. I understood that when I saw Gregor on the film.”
They drank their beer in silence; each man running over the information they had in his head. Hutch put his can down on the table and seeing Starsky's grimace he moved it to a magazine. “Why don't we track down the dream car?” He picked up the phone. Five minutes later he had addresses for four owners of white ‘59/'60 Eldorados. Starsky looked at the list; “this one, come on let's go.”

The car was registered in the name of Brenda Williams; the address was a classy apartment block over near Westwood.

*********************************************

The blonde replaced the ‘phone in its cradle and smiled at her assistant – her slave.
“That was your brother. They've seen the film from the security cameras.” He looked up at her. The fear in his eyes gave her adrenalin a kick start. “He thinks that David recognized you.” She took her pistol out of her purse and motioned to Gregor to open the apartment door. He was still groggy with painkillers and no match for her. He obeyed. They took the elevator down to the garage and five minutes later the Eldorado slipped out of the building.

The Torino pulled up in front of the building seconds after the Eldorado had disappeared around the corner at the top of the street. Starsky and Hutch checked the buzzers and pressed the penthouse ‘B Williams'. There was no reply. Starsky pressed the button marked ‘Service'.
“Yea?”
“Police! We need to visit Ms Williams and it doesn't answer.”

It took the security officer two minutes to come to the entrance of the building. A glance at Hutch's badge satisfied him that they were really cops and he let them in.
“Ms Williams in some kind of trouble?” he asked as they disappeared into the elevator.

Starsky knocked on the door and again there was no reply. He nodded to Hutch and they took their usual positions either side of the door. At Hutch's signal Starsky kicked it hard as close to the lock as he could. The door flew open and the two cops ran into the room with their guns ready to defend themselves. The apartment was empty.
Starsky checked out the bedroom while Hutch inspected the living room for anything that could link Brenda Williams to Billy. He picked up a chauffeur's cap and called his partner.
“In here.” Starsky shouted from the bathroom. He was holding a bottle of pills and reading the label. “Do you have any idea what this is?” “No; but I do know what this is.” Hutch pointed to a bloodstained dress on the floor.
The two cops exchanged a glance that said a thousand words and ran back down to the Torino.
“Zebra Three to control. I need an APB on a white Eldorado convertible. A '59 model. Driven by either a blonde or a chauffeur.”
Starsky pulled away from the curb and started to drive up the street.
“We have no idea where they went Starsk.”
“I have an idea…” the radio interrupted him. “This is Charlie four; we just saw the car you want heading along Ventura toward the hills.”
“The Sign!” They said it in unison. Starsky gunned the engine and the powerful V8 made the Torino surge forward.

They were in sight of the sign now and Starsky pulled Hutch behind a bush. “It's grown a bit since the last time I was here,” he said under his breath as he pulled Hutch down to the ground. “Don't worry Blondie, you're safe with me – you ain't my type.”
They waited.
Two figures came into view and Hutch turned to Starsky. “I don't get it, how come he doesn't fight. He must be stronger than she is even with one hand.”
The blond was pushing Gregor towards the sign. She held her gun close to his back and he stumbled forwards. They could hear his pleading.
“Please Bren…no…please…Bren…no! BREN!”
The blonde pushed him again and Gregor continued his pitiful pleas to live.
“Shit!” Starsky said under his breath. “It can't be!”
“What? What is it Starsk?”
“He's calling her ‘Bren'. That's what Brendon preferred; he hated his name!”
Hutch looked at Starsky carefully. “But…?”
“They buried ashes Hutch. They didn't know which was which; perhaps there were only two corpses in the building after all.”

The blonde was holding her gun on Gregor as he propped a ladder against one of the uprights of the ‘H'. Gregor already had the rope around his neck.
As the two cops watched in horror a third figure appeared behind one of the letters.
Igor raised his gun and shouted something. The blonde turned and fired; Igor fell to the ground and rolled in pain clutching his leg.

Starsky swore and broke cover. He ran over to the ‘H' and grabbed the blonde from behind forcing her to drop her gun. She spun round and looked him in the eye. Starsky froze. She was so familiar and yet a stranger.
“Hello Dave; I knew you'd find me eventually.”
“Do I know you?”
“You do – or at least you did. I guess I've changed a little since you so kindly rejected me.
“Rejected…”
“Yes Dave. The others were unkind but you…you were never unkind to me.”
Hutch arrived to stand alongside Starsky. He had the blonde covered with his gun but Starsky shook his head and Hutch returned the Colt to its holster. He turned to check on Gregor who was sitting on the ground whimpering. Satisfied that he was no threat, Hutch gave his attention to Igor. He used his belt to improvise a tourniquet and patted the wounded man on the shoulder. He ran over to listen to what Starsky and the blonde were saying.

“Is that why you killed them?”
“Of course. They were cruel to me. They hurt me – they said it was what I wanted. He,” she pointed to Igor, ”he was one of the worst. He came back for more – he enjoyed it more than he was willing to admit – getting his brother was an unexpected bonus.”
Hutch spoke. “Are you saying they raped you Brenda?”
The blonde laughed. “Oh yes they raped me. All the jocks and the high school heroes had a piece of my cake, except your friend here. Dave was the only one who didn't. He was too busy with one of the cheerleaders – weren't you?”
Starsky lowered his eyes. Back of his mind he heard the muffled cries and groans from under the bleachers.
“Brendon?”
“Yes Dave.”
“You set fire to your parents' place didn't you?”
“Of course. They refused to believe me when I told them what Billy and the others had done so I decided to kill them. I claimed the insurance in the name of a non-existent cousin in New York and I finally got what I wanted.”
Hutch had heard enough; he pulled the cuffs from his pocket and pulled the blonde's arms behind her back. “You have the right to remain silent….”
“Don't waste your breath sweetheart. You can't arrest me.”
Hutch glared at her; his pale blue eyes were icy. “Oh really? I'm arresting you for the murders of….”
She laughed again. “Who are you arresting Blondie?”
Starsky swore. “She's…he's…I mean….”
Hutch pushed the blonde towards the path that led back down to the Torino. “We'll decide that when we get to the precinct.” Starsky shook his head and held out a hand to help Gregor to his feet. “Hey Hutch, you call for an ambulance for Igor then take the Torino and I'll bring Gregor in.”
Hutch turned to see his partner grinning like a kid. “OK.” He shouted as Starsky slid behind the wheel of the Eldorado.

************************************************

Starsky stared at the DA in fury. “Are you telling me that five murders and two attempted murders just get wiped off the record?”
His dark blue eyes were flashing and he was so close to the young lawyer that the other man could smell his toothpaste. Hutch made no attempt to calm his fiery partner down. If anything he was hoping that Starsky might actually hit the smug man in his three-piece suit and shiny shoes.
Dobey tried to take some of the steam out of the situation.
“Sit down Starsky!”
Starsky didn't move. He jabbed a strong finger against the lawyer's chest; punctuating every phrase. “Two people burned to death…but that doesn't matter. Three more people shot to death…but for you that's not important. And another poor bastard who had his hand cut off and nearly killed with a noose, not to say a police office with a bullet in his leg… no, for you it doesn't mean a thing. We have the killer; we even have a fucking confession and you…you are trying to tell us that there is no way we can go for a trial because of an identity problem.”

He stepped back and glared once more at the lawyer then shrugged his shoulders and walked over to the coffee pot to serve himself.

“I realize it is annoying detective…”
“ Annoying !” Starsky lost it totally. He threw the contents of his goblet at the DA and smiled from the teeth out, eyes cold and expressionless. “Now that is annoying. Coffee all down your expensive Brioni suit. Very annoying I'd say. Wouldn't you Hutch?”
Hutch nodded and tried to keep all expression off his face. He had been tempted to laugh when Starsky threw the coffee – but his partner was not kidding and when Starsky was this angry it was best to leave him.
“It's not ‘annoying'; I'll tell you what it is. It's injustice; let me put it another way – it's not fair.”
The DA cut in. “The law isn't always isn't always fair Detective.”
“It's not the law this time but the god-damn lawyers.”
“Starsky!” This time Dobey raised his voice as if reprimanding a disobedient child. “Back off, now!”
Starsky threw him a disgusted look. “OK, I'll back off. I'm going home. I don't think I want to even be in the same building as this bag of shit who calls himself the representative of the law in this town.”
Hutch watched Starsky storm out of the room. He rose to see if he could try to placate his raging friend but Dobey motioned to him to sit down again. “Hear this out Hutch and then try to get your partner to see reason.”
“It seems to me that Starsky does see reason Captain. It's just Mr. Law School here who doesn't.”

The DA sighed and sat down. “I understand that he's angry. But he has to understand that under the law we have no-one to accuse. We are talking about established identity. Brendon Wilson killed his parents; but legally Brendon Wilson is dead; he died in the same fire. Now we have Brenda Williams who appears to have been Brendon Wilson before having a sex-change. Ordinarily that is not a problem because Brenda has established ID; but the person she was is officially dead which means that she can not officially exist.” He paused as if he needed to stop and follow what he had just said to check that it made sense.

Hutch pressed his fingertips together and brought them to his forehead. After a few seconds thought he asked “supposing we could prove that Brendon didn't die in the fire. I mean find a witness who saw him after the fire?”
“According to the files at the time no-one saw any member of the family alive after the fire. And there were no witnesses to the fire itself.” The DA reminded him.
“Let me talk to Starsky.” He left the room.

Starsky wasn't in the squad room. Hutch went out into the hallway to see if his friend was raiding a candy machine. Minnie came over to him. “If you're looking for Starsky, he stormed out of here like a tornado.”
Hutch ran down to the street; the Torino was gone. He swore and ran back into the building to grab a ‘phone. “Huggy; I need a lift. Starsky's gone off in a rage and I didn't bring my car to work.”

Huggy parked behind the Torino and the two of them ran up the steps to Starsky's apartment. He was sitting on the couch cleaning his gun. “You aren't thinking of doing anything you'll regret with that, are you?” Hutch said trying to sound light.
“I regret it every time I fire it if you must know.”
Hutch sat down beside his friend and Huggy made himself useful with the kettle and the coffee pot.
“We may have a way round this Starsk.”
“How? You heard what that asshole said. Brendon is legally dead so Brenda doesn't exist. No case!”
“No; if we can prove that Brendon survived then Brenda can be brought to trial.”
Starsky looked Hutch in the eye. “This is beginning to sound like one of those riddles that never end.”
“Think back Starsk. Why did you pull the file? Did you doubt something?”
Starsky reassembled his gun and pushed it into the leather holster beside him. He sat back and stared at the ceiling.
“Yes. We need to speak with Gregor.”

Gregor was in the hospital and a doctor stopped the two detectives as they approached his room.
“He's not in a good condition. It was a clean job; no stitches – the wound was cauterized, apparently with an electric iron. Unfortunately there's an infection; I don't know if I can save the arm. And there's a degree of post traumatic shock.”
Starsky looked away and as he did so Hutch saw the shadow of a ghost reflected in his partner's deep blue eyes.

They went into the sparsely furnished hospital room. Gregor was handcuffed by his good hand to the bed-frame – a reminder that he was a prisoner. There was an unpleasant smell in the room Starsky muttered “gangrene”.
Starsky pulled a chair to the side of the bed and smiled sadly. “Hiya; bet you never thought you'd see me again.”
Gregor managed a wan smile back and shook his head.
“No. I heard you were dead.”
“Heard or hoped?”
“Hey come on Dave…you were never like the others. That's why Bren and I liked you.”
Hutch pricked up his ears. Gregor continued. “When Bren came back - I didn't recognize him at first…her I mean.”
Hutch said gently “Bren's a woman now Gregor; you can say ‘she' if you like.”
“That's what I thought.”
The two cops looked at one another.
“Yea, you know Dave it's really convincing isn't it? I really fell for it.” He sobbed and looked at his hand.
Starsky leaned forward and said gently “Take your time.”
Gregor swallowed. “I met her in a bar over near Vine. I really needed it man you know – I mean I'd bust up with my girl and I needed it bad. She was beautiful and I offered her a drink. She really came on to me. Said I reminded her of someone – you bet I did!
We took a room in a hotel off the Broadway.” Hutch stopped him. “Which hotel?” Gregor told him and he left the room to make a few calls.
Starsky held a glass of water for Gregor to take a sip and nodded.
“So you went to the hotel and…?”
“She was all over me, you know what I mean? She gave me a blow job that sent me to the moon. The she started to undress. She did a kind of strip routine and started to talk about it. How she'd make them all pay for what they did. I got scared.”
“Why?
“Because she called me Igor. Dave I didn't do it to Bren – not like the others; not like my brother. We were friends.”
Starsky nodded. “I know. Go on.”
Gregor sensed that he was talking to someone he could trust. “Anyways she started undressing me too and she pushed me onto the bed and then…then she rolled me over and that's when I found out that Bren was still alive.”
Starsky missed a beat. “Are you saying that she is still a he?”
“Yea. She- I mean he -I mean – I don't know.”
“Whatever you prefer Gregor. Go on.”
“Bren told me that the surgeon wouldn't do it; he said that Bren was too psychologically unstable. Anyway he believed me when I said I wasn't Igor – and well he could see I wasn't.”
“What do you mean?”
“I have a mole…Bren saw it plenty of times when we jerked each other off.”
“So Bren knew who you were. Go on.”
“Bren said I had to do as I was told. When they were dead I had to clean them then go and string them up. I forgot to wear gloves with Mona and so Bren said I had to be punished.” He looked at his stump. “I guess you're wondering what Bren did it with. A big kitchen cleaver; like the ones they use in a butcher shop.” He winced. “You need me to tell you about Billy?”
“No; you've told me enough.”

******************************************

“I'm going to enjoy this.” Starsky said as he and Hutch walked into the DA's office suite.

The DA was waiting for them and he didn't seem too pleased to have been called to his office on a Sunday afternoon.
“This had better be worth it.” He said sourly as the two detectives sat down uninvited.
“Oh it is.” Starsky said with a slight smile. “I'm sure that when you've heard what I have to say you won't mind missing whatever it is you were going to do.”
The DA leaned back in his chair. “I'm listening,” he said but he glanced at his watch as if to emphasize that in his opinion he had better things to be doing right now.

“You said that there is no case against Brenda Williams because Brendon is officially dead.”
“Yes.”
“So if we can prove that Brendon is not dead there is a case, right?”
The lawyer scowled at Starsky. “Go on.”
“Brendon didn't have the operation. Brenda is a transvestite not a transsexual.”
The lawyer smiled broadly. “That puts a totally different aspect to the case. I'll draw up the papers right now. And you two had better get over there and arrest him before he decides to leave town.”

Brenda/Brendon was packing when Starsky kicked the door open. “We did knock but I don't think you heard.” He said with a lopsided grin. Hutch grabbed the pistol on the bed before Brenda/Brendon had a chance to reach for it. Starsky closed the suitcase. “You won't need all this where you're going.” He recited Miranda as he snapped the cuffs on his prisoner. “In case you're wondering, Gregor told us all about it…Brendon!”

***********************************

“You never did tell me what you meant about using that track to go up to the sign.”
“Oh that, well we used to take girls up there…it was quiet because the tourists never go there. We figured that if we didn't do it any other way at least we could way we'd made it in Hollywood.”
“That is a terrible pun.”
“Yeah…isn't it.”
Starsky grinned and raised his beer in a mock toast. Then he started to sing:

“Hooray for Hollywood
That screwy, ballyhooey Hollywood
Where any office boy or young mechanic
Can be a panic, with just a good-looking pan
Where any barmaid can be a star maid
If she dances with or without a fan”

He started to dance around the room using a magazine as a fan.

“Hooray for Hollywood
Where you're terrific, if you're even good
Where anyone at all from TV's Lassie
To Monroe's chassis is equally understood”

Hutch roared with laughter as Starsky exaggerated his strange wiggle and crossed the room.

“Go out and try your luck, you might be Donald Duck
Hooray for Hollywood

Hooray for Hollywood
Oh I forget these lines so da da da da da da da daaaaaaa

He twirled around the room then picked up the tune again “Oh yes I think I've got it….

Hooray for Hollywood
You may be homely in your neighborhood
But if you think that you can be an actor
See Mr. Factor, he'd make a monkey look good
With a half an hour, you'll look like Tyrone Power
Hooray for Hollywood ”

Starsky collapsed on the couch to join Hutch who was helpless with laughter.
“When did you learn all the words Starsk?”
“I told you I played Camille one year; well the next year we did a version of ‘There's no business like show business' – I was in the chorus.”
Hutch gulped his beer. “And the best we ever did was A Midsummer Night's Dream.”
“Don't tell me…they made you play Bottom”
“Yes.”

***************************************
********************
************

  back to story index