Captain’s Prerogative

by Kaye

The bodies fell, the smoke cleared, and Hutch scrambled from behind the couch. He shouted to Starsky, who was rolling out from behind the chair, cursing.

“Starsk – you okay?”

“Damn, tore my jeans.”

“Starsky, you got weird priorities. Guy almost blows your head off and you’re worried about your crummy blue jeans.” Hutch stood, slipping his Magnum back into the holster, kicking guns away from bodies. Never hurt to be sure – he’d hate to get it in the back from a perp who was supposed to be dead.

“Guess you can buy me a new pair, Captain – thanks for the warning.” Starsky turned to the doorway where Dobey had been standing when the gunfight erupted.

They had all three gone to serve the warrant on Jimmy Shoes, a crown prince in Stryker’s little mafia kingdom. They had been working for over a year to bring him down – started by Starsky when he was confined to the desk after Gunther, picked up by Hutch after he got done with the high-profile court case that followed, and then finished by Dobey when he had stumbled upon an old bench warrant and used it to get a new search warrant on Shoes’ donut shop. There they found all the evidence they needed. Automatic weapons, drugs, the ledger where Jimmy had painstakingly written each and every sale in even columns. It had turned out to be one of the best nights of Starsky’s life as he helped himself to at least two dozen donuts while he searched.

But Jimmy Shoes must have gotten wind of the arrest warrant, because when they arrived, they were shown into the house nicely enough, and then lured into the living room where two goons were waiting. If Dobey hadn’t noticed the shadow of a man in the kitchen, they would have needed the coroner’s wagon.

“Oh, God . . .”

Starsky heard Hutch’s soft prayer and turned to see him huddled over the still figure of Dobey, sprawled in the doorway. Hutch turned to Starsky, eyes wide.

Starsky knelt down beside Dobey, assessing the damage.

Dobey groaned and opened his eyes. The first bullet out of Tiny McGraw’s gun had hit him. Tiny had been just inside the kitchen door, his .38 aimed at Starsky’s chest. Dobey had shouted the warning which sent Starsky over the back of the chair, and then the .38 had swung around to him. He had been caught in the frame of the door. There was blood everywhere. Looked like the captain had one in the leg, the shoulder, and another somewhere in the midsection.

“You guys okay?” Dobey whispered. He moved his hand and laid it on Starsky’s knee. “Ripped your pants, son?”

Starsky looked at Hutch, who grabbed a pillow from the couch and pressed it against Dobey’s leg. He tossed Starsky the other pillow and Starsky shoved it under Dobey’s suit coat, pressing firmly on his shoulder.

Detective Campos, first on the scene, stopped in the doorway. “Son of a . . .”

“Manny – get a fucking ambulance!” Hutch roared, coming to life. He turned to Dobey. “Captain, how you doing?”

“How does it look like I’m doing? I’m bleeding like a stuck pig and all I got is you two hovering over me like mother hens. Hurts like hell . . .”

He grimaced and tried to move away from the pain. Starsky watched the blood seep through the fabric of the pillow and pressed harder. Dobey reached up to push Starsky away, to relieve the pressure, but his hand was caught by Hutch.

“Don’t move, Cap – we don’t know what kind of damage you got going on. Try not to move. Help’s coming.” Hutch looked at Starsky and shook his head.

“Will you two cut that shit out?” Dobey managed a ghost of his usual growl.

“What shit?” Starsky pressed harder. An ambulance siren wailed its arrival.

“That eye thing. Like you think I don’t see you.” Dobey groaned and took in a breath. He’d forgotten how much getting shot hurt. The last time he had been in this position, the man holding his chest had been boohooing like a baby. Elmo Jackson, big, tough, badass detective, clutching his hand, bawling his

eyes out . . .

“You better not fucking die on me, Harold.”

“Harold? Now I know it’s serious. Come on, Elmo – get a grip. People’s gonna be here soon and what are they gonna think – you laying all over me, crying?”

“What eye thing?” Starsky asked, bringing the captain back to the present.

“You know what eye thing,” he croaked. “Every blasted thing I say to you two – you check it with each other. Gets downright disrespectful . . . see right there, that’s what I mean.”

Starsky had glanced at Hutch when Dobey was talking, but now they both made an effort to focus only on Dobey’s face, which was ashen and sweating.

“Hang on, Cap – help is coming. You just hang on,” Starsky soothed.

Sirens echoed through the room and two paramedics barreled in. Hutch moved out of the way and as Starsky tried to move to make room, Dobey grabbed his arm and pulled him back down.

“Don’t tell Edith, yet.”

“But Cap . . .”

“No, Starsky – not yet. That’s an order. Wait till you know I’m gonna make it.”

Starsky looked at Hutch, remembered the captain’s reprimand, and quickly looked back down. “Okay, Cap – not till we know.”

Captain Dobey closed his eyes, hoping his life insurance policy would be enough for the kids.

gghh

“This is weird.” Starsky handed Hutch a cup of coffee.

They were in the surgery waiting room. Edith Dobey sat on the couch opposite them, cradling a sleeping Rosie, while Cal stretched out his long legs on the floor beside them. The rest of the chairs were filled with cops. Cops lined the hallway all the way down to admitting. Cops waited in line in the cafeteria, buying up every donut and sweet roll in the place. Outside, at least six cops huddled around a trash can, smoking. Waiting. Hoping. Praying.

“What’s weird?” Hutch took the coffee and scooted over so Starsky could share part of his chair.

“Hardly ever sit in a waiting room with you. Usually for you. Feels weird.”

“Yeah . . .” Hutch was not about to follow Starsky down that particular road. He had spent the good part of a month in this hospital – his back was well acquainted with many of these chairs. Plus, maudlin was an emotion he didn’t need to add to his growing list. He was having a hard enough time appearing brave for Edith. He knew it was going to be close, if they had gotten Cap here in time. But there had been so much blood. He was so tired of mopping up other people’s blood. He was so tired of waiting in waiting rooms. He rubbed a hand over his face, leaned over and placed a hand on Edith’s shoulder.

“How are you doing?” he asked.

Although they had promised Dobey they wouldn’t tell Edith, on the way to the hospital Starsky had picked up her and the kids. Dobey would just have to deal with it. They both knew that the wrath of their captain paled in comparison to the wrath of a cop’s wife kept in the dark about her husband’s shooting.

“How long, Ken?”

Hutch looked at his watch. “Six hours. Doctor said it might take a while.”

Detective Manny Campos came around the corner. “Can I see you guys?”

Starsky and Hutch followed him back down the hallway. All conversation stopped, and a sizable crowd gathered around the three detectives. Campos opened his mouth to complain, but Starsky laid a hand on his arm.

“We all wanna know, Campos. Let it be.”

Campos took a breath and then started talking in low tones. “Looks like you guys got Tiny McGraw and Lester Collins. No sign of Jimmy Shoes, Wally Stover, or anybody else. You were set up from the word go.”

“Fucking Shoes,” muttered Starsky, “what do we gotta do to get a break with that guy?”

The doctor walked down the hall toward Edith Dobey. The officers moved as a unit as they followed the doctor, surrounding the family and Hutch, who took Rosie in his arms as Edith stood and faced the doctor. And the news.

“He’s out of surgery. We got all the fragments. Took the appendix. He lost a lot of blood, but I think if we can keep any infections down, he should be okay.”

Edith sagged into Starsky’s arms and he led her into a chair.

Cal stood next to his mother and took her hand. “It’s okay, Mom – I told you he’s gonna be okay. Dad’s tough.”

Starsky patted Cal on the back. “You got that right, Cal – probably be back chewing my tail in no time.”

As the news traveled down the halls, through the cafeteria and outside, the hospital emptied. Officers headed back to the job, back to their lives, and back out on the streets. Until the next time. For these officers, there would always be a next time. A cop gets used to hospitals.

“When can I see him?” Edith asked the doctor.

“Come with me, Mrs. Dobey – he’s in recovery, but you can wait and go with him when they transfer him to ICU.”

“Cal, watch your sister,” Edith called back as she followed the doctor down the hall.

gghh

Starsky walked into the squad room the next morning with a wicked headache, drums banging in both ears, and sunglasses pulled down over bloodshot eyes. He and Hutch had celebrated their close call at Huggy’s very late, until Huggy had called a cab for them both, walking them out and shoving them into it, ignoring the protests of the cabbie and the loud singing of one very hammered Hutch.

Starsky had flashed his badge at the poor man, and then immediately dropped it into the gutter. Huggy had to slip the cabbie an extra twenty to take them home. The last glimpse Huggy caught of his sauced friends was Starsky’s white ass, hanging out the window, mooning him a goodbye.

“Why I put up with those two . . .” Huggy had muttered as he walked back into The Pits. Of course he knew why he put up with them. And he knew that the events of the day had shaken them more than they would ever admit. Huggy had gathered, in between the first macho retelling and then the drunken, more emotional retelling, that if it hadn’t been for Dobey, the gathering this night would have been a wake – for Starsky. Too soon after the last disaster for any of them to handle sober.

So Starsky was not in the best of shape this morning. But he was no worse than Hutch, who followed Starsky through the door with a weary frown, bloodshot eyes, and matching sunglasses. Hutch walked over, poured himself a cup of coffee, and sank into his chair. Starsky straddled his own chair and laid his head on the desk.

Manny Campos closed the file he was reading and smiled. “Oh, Starsky,” he called out.

“Campos – Jesus, keep it down,” Hutch grimaced over the edge of his cup.

“Manny,” Starsky muttered, his head still down on his arms, “don’t talk to me today.”

“Just thought you guys might want to go meet the new captain.”

Both heads swung around to him.

“What new captain?” Starsky shoved the sunglasses up on his head so he could get a better look at the smirk on Campos’ face.

“Seeing that Dobey’s gonna be laid up a while, they sent a replacement.” Campos’ voice was even, his manner casual. Something was up.

“Who?” Hutch asked.

Campos waited for a beat. The rest of the squad stopped talking, turned toward him. The room grew unusually still.

“Oh, well, I think you know her, Starsky.” Campos baited the hook.

“Know who?” Starsky stood, took the bait.

“I think you worked for her once . . . didn’t he, Campbell?”

Steve Campbell, who had been listening, frowned. “Hey, Manny – don’t get me in the middle of this. I want no part of it.”

Hutch had walked over till he was nose to nose with Campos. “Cut the shit, Manny – who is it?”

Campos ignored Hutch and turned back toward Starsky. “Well, Starsky, our new captain is none other than . . .”

The opening of Dobey’s door interrupted them. Everyone turned to see the object of the conversation glide through. Starsky turned last. The sunglasses fell down over his eyes as he whispered, “Kira.”

Hutch just stood with his mouth open. He had heard through the grapevine that Kira had made captain – he had used some choice words to express his ideas about the probable method she had used to climb so far so fast – but this had to be a mistake.

Kira, for her part, had the decency to look uncomfortable. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a bun; her slate-grey suit gave her a look of authority. Even her shoes – one inch black pumps – screamed respectability. She looked from one man to the other, willing her hands to stop shaking. It was hard to enjoy the bitter irony of the situation when she stood so close. Her first command. What a joke.

“Sergeant Starsky – Sergeant Hutchinson.” Kira smiled, trying to appear casual.

“No way,” Starsky shook his head. “No fucking way.”

Hutch rounded the desk and pulled Starsky toward the coffee pot. “Starsky – cool it.”

Starsky shrugged out of Hutch’s grasp and shook his finger at Kira.

“No fucking way are you gonna be my captain.”

“Sergeant Starsky – if you would please come into my office . . .”

“Ain’t your office,” Starsky interrupted, “ain’t never gonna be your office.”

Campos had come around the other side of the desks and grabbed Starsky’s left arm. Hutch had his right. They both felt the tension in Starsky’s body as he glared at the woman he had, until this moment, only been able to call “fucking bitch.”

“Come on, Starsky – not out here,” Hutch whispered in his ear.

“Yeah, Starsk – not here.” Manny felt Hutch tug on Starsky and he did the same. They managed to get him through the door into Dobey’s office. Kira followed and shut the door behind them.

The squad room erupted. Bets were laid, money changed hands. Odds were good the dynamic duo would not live to see the return of Dobey. A side bet had Starsky over Captain Gorgeous at two to one. Campbell, who had a bit more information than the rest since he had worked the case with them, bet a fifty dollar bill that one or both or all three would get suspended before the day was out.

gghh

Starsky stood just inside the door, arms pulled firmly into his sides, fists clinched. Hutch stood so that he was equal distance between his agitated partner and Kira. She walked around to Dobey’s chair, changed her mind, and settled onto the edge of the desk.

Campos slid casually to the other door, hoping to disappear under the cloud of tension that had settled around the room.

“Detective Campos, you can go . . .”

“Oh, no, Manny stays,” Hutch said evenly. “He’s part of the squad, too. Plus, I don’t particularly trust you, lady – I want a witness in here.”

“Hey, really Hutch – looks like you guys got something to talk about . . .”

“Got nothing to say . . . nothing.” Starsky’s eyes never left Kira.

“Please, guys – I know this is not the best situation, but can we just discuss it like rational adults?” Kira crossed her arms and chose to look at Hutch.

Hutch wiped his face, pointed Campos into a chair, and turned his back on Kira. He grasped Starsky’s shoulders, cutting off his line of vision to Kira, and looked right into his eyes. He squeezed until Starsky was forced to look at him.

“No, Hutch. I don’t care. No way . . .”

Hutch interrupted, “Listen to me, buddy. You gotta get a grip. We will fix this – but you can’t get yourself suspended in the process.”

He pulled Starsky closer, patting his back, and whispered, “We survived her once, we can do it again,” and pulled away to look into his eyes again. “We just have to get some things straight, right?” He winked at Starsky and turned back to Kira.

Kira waited, fascinated by the exchange. She watched Starsky lower his head, take a deep breath, and walk over to the empty chair, settling on the arm before Hutch took the seat. She went around and sat in Dobey’s chair, trying to regain the advantage that the surprise had given her – the advantage just negated by whatever Hutch had whispered to Starsky.

Manny felt the change in the room. He settled into his chair and crossed his legs. He tried to find a spot on the wall that could fascinate him for the rest of this confrontation he was forced to witness. He just hoped a subpoena was not in his future.

Kira cleared her throat. “Okay, gentlemen, here’s the deal. Your Captain Dobey is out for at least six weeks. I have been assigned here. Not because I asked for it. God knows I’m not that needy . . .”

Starsky stood, but Hutch pressed a hand on his back, and he sat back down.

“. . . but because for the last few months, I have been working on the task force that got you that warrant for Shoes’ place. I was just about to serve a writ on Wally Stover’s house when the call came through. Now the Chief thinks that we need to combine our resources and work on this together. And I have worked my ass off for too long to let you guys blow this for me because of one little incident . . .”

This was too much for Starsky. He stood and pushed hard against the desk. Hutch grabbed his arm, but he shrugged him off. Campos stood, looked longingly at the door.

“Incident? You call what happened an incident?” Starsky pointed a finger, eyes blazing. “Lady, how you ever made captain is beyond me. But if you think that me and Hutch will take orders from you – ever – you can just stick that . . .”

“Jesus, Dave – how old are you? You know I can have your badge right now for insubordination alone?” Kira stood, furious. She leaned into Starsky’s finger. “Sergeant, I suggest you cool it. Actually, I suggest you think seriously about some time off. In fact, why don’t you take the rest of the day? Pull yourself together. Because whether you like it or not, for the next six weeks – you do have to take orders from me.”

Hutch grabbed Starsky and hauled him back into the chair. “Kira, we get it, okay. We get it. But there’s something you need to know, too.”

Campos stepped back as Hutch took Starsky’s spot at the desk.

“We’ll work with you, because that’s our job. We don’t have to like it, but we’ll do it – because we’re good cops. But, if at any point we don’t feel you’re doing your job, or you put us in the trick bag, we’ll take you down hard – promotion or no promotion. Got it?”

Kira stood silent for a moment, looking at both men. She had missed this part the last time. The unified front – the bond – the partnership. They were like two halves of a whole now. Not like last time. And now these jokers held her future in their hands.

“The irony just continues, doesn’t it?” Kira sat back down. “Okay, Hutch, I read you. I stay out of your way – you don’t act like children and blow the case.” She ignored Starsky’s protest and looked at Detective Manny Campos, who was about to come out of his shoes.

“Campos – how are you doing?”

“Just fine, m’am. Can I go now?”

“Yes, I think we’ve got everything straightened out here, don’t you?” She looked straight at Starsky. “Oh, and I would appreciate it if you would address me as Captain.”

Starsky got up, whirled around the chair and out the door without a word.

Hutch nodded to Kira and then followed his partner. Campos smiled and offered, “Uh, welcome to the squad, Captain.” He closed the door behind him. Kira laid her head on the desk. It was going to be a long six weeks.

gghh

Dobey felt pressure on his stomach. He opened his left eye to see the head of his wife resting on his stomach, her arm across his chest. He smiled. And then grimaced as the pain in his chest and his leg hit him at the same time.

Edith raised her head. She saw that her husband was awake and moved up to cradle his head in her hands. Lightly kissing his forehead, she reached down and took his hand in hers.

“Forget to duck again, Harold?” Tears threatened as she watched him grimace in pain.

“Yeah, I guess. How am I doing?”

“Six hours on the table. Had to cut through the scar tissue to get to the one in your stomach – that’s why it took so long. But the doctor says you’re so rotten, it’s going to take more than bullets to stop you.” Edith smiled again. She smoothed the blanket, tugging at a stray thread.

“Don’t, Edith.” Dobey pulled her close. “I know how bad it was. I’m sorry.”

Edith sat back down in her chair, laid her head on his stomach and cried.

Dobey stroked her head. He hated like hell that he’d put her through it – again.

“Come on, Edith – I’m okay – you just said I was going to make it.”

Edith nodded, and lifted her head. She patted the side of her husband’s face.

Then she patted it again – harder. Dobey caught her hand in mid-air before she could land the third one. He had enough aches and pains.

“I thought we agreed – no more cowboy stuff.” Edith smiled, teeth clenched.

“I was serving a warrant, Edith. I still serve warrants, you know.”

“I’m not stupid, Harold. I know all about the warrant. Only one reason you come out of the station these days. I know it was Stryker.”

Dobey grimaced, partly from the pain, mostly from the truth. They had walked down this road too many times already.

Edith took his hand. “You can’t take them all down yourself, you know. I’m just worried your luck is going to run out one of these days.”

“Hey, my girl, my luck’s never going to run out – you are my luck.”

Edith smiled. “Oh how you flatter, Harold Dobey.”

They sat silent for a moment.

“You know, Harold, you almost killed the boys this time. I didn’t think Hutch was going to survive another minute in that waiting room. Starsky practically sat on his lap the whole time – making sure he was okay, while Hutch was making sure I was okay.”

“They were great, Edith – so damn proud of those boys. They work like real pros – especially Starsky. He’s come back a long way. How bout the kids – they okay? Didn’t scare them too much?”

“Oh, no, you would have been proud. Cal was so strong. Stood by me like a little sentinel. Took such good care of Rosie. They’re at school now. I thought it would be better for them. Doctor said you’d be out for a long time.”

“You get any sleep yet?”

“Yes, enough. And before you start to order me about – I’m staying here. Starsky took the day off and he’s on the way here with lunch and a change of clothes. I’m not leaving.”

Dobey smiled. He might be the big bad boss at work, but at home, he fell in line somewhere between Rosie and the cat. He liked it that way. He closed his eyes and remembered a conversation he’d had a long time ago . . .

“Dobey, you are one pussy-whipped mother.” Elmo walked around to the driver’s side of the car.

“You’re just jealous, Jackson – wish you had some sweet thing to come home to every night.” Dobey crawled into the passenger side of Jackson’s new car – a 1958 Cadillac convertible – white.

“Yeah, come home to be ordered around all night long. Man can’t get any peace with a woman telling him what to do all night.”

“Yes, you’re right, Elmo – it goes on all night long – all night.”

“Huh?”

“If you know what I mean . . . all night long . . . man gets tired working all night like that . . .”

Jackson gunned the engine and the Cadillac squealed into traffic. “You are one crazy bastard, you know that, Dobey?”

“Yes, but I’m not the one that bought the whitest car in all Bay City, did I? How we gonna work undercover in this thing?”

“I’ll have you know, Sergeant Dobey – this car is the fastest thing going. Bad guys don’t have a chance.”

“Bad guys got plenty of chances because they’re gonna see us coming a mile away in this thing – it’s like we’re driving in a big marshmallow . . .”

“Did you just call my car a marshmallow?”

“How you doing, Cap?”

Dobey opened his eyes to see Starsky standing over him, holding out a greasy paper sack. “Up to some tacos? I snuck some in.”

Edith quickly reached over and took the bag from Starsky. “David, he is not ready for tacos – ever. He’s not supposed to eat solids, anyway. So don’t tempt him.”

“Yes, m’am – whatever you say.” Starsky turned back to Dobey. “So, how you feeling?”

“Like I got shot.”

“Yeah, scared us for a minute.”

“Scared me for a minute – thought you bought it when you went over the

chair . . .”

Edith slipped out quietly as Starsky sat down beside her husband. They needed a moment together. She knew from experience and the conversation in the waiting room that this had been a close call. Too close, and too soon.

“You did real good, son.” Dobey patted Starsky’s hand. “Proud of you – how you’ve come back – know I don’t tell you that often . . .”

“Often?” Starsky snorted.

“Rarely . . .”

“Rarely?”

“Okay – never. But I should. You’re a fine officer . . .”

“Cap – what kind of drugs they got you on?” Starsky stood and patted Dobey’s shoulder. “I know how it is – I got all soapy after I got shot, too. Just glad you yell loud – would never have heard you.”

“I’m just glad you still listen to me sometimes. Nice dive, by the way. Hurt anything?”

Starsky smiled. Just like Dobey to worry over him, while lying in a hospital bed. “Naw, I’m tough. Now you sure you don’t want me to hide those tacos somewhere?”

“No, the boss spoke.”

Edith walked back in. “Yes I did.”

Hutch followed behind her, a stack of magazines and a portable radio in his arms. “Hi Cap – good to see you up. Thought you might need some entertainment. I know this radio gets good reception in here . . .”

Starsky and Hutch exchanged a quick glance. That radio had kept them company on many long pain-filled nights during Starsky’s recovery.

“Yeah, even gets the Sports Chat from San Francisco if you turn it just right.” Starsky added.

“Thanks.” Dobey moved, trying to find a comfortable spot. Now that he was fully awake, he couldn’t find a place that didn’t hurt.

Edith rubbed his arm and Starsky grabbed the top magazine from the pile. Hutch looked around for a plug. Somehow they all just fell back into a natural rhythm formed during the last time they had all been together in a hospital room. Hutch plugged in the radio, turned it to a classical station. Starsky frowned over the choice of music, but just leaned against the window, reading. Hutch moved over to Dobey, straightening the blankets, checking the IV. Dobey sighed against the pain, and then it finally registered with him.

“What the hell are you two doing here?” he growled.

“Harold, that’s not nice . . .”

“We came to visit you, Cap . . .”

“No, I mean – why aren’t you at work? Must have at least a day of reports to finish – plus I can’t believe you’re not out looking for Shoes. Now just because I’m laid up here for a while . . .” Dobey was revving up, despite the pain.

Edith laid a hand on his chest. “Harold – do not get worked up.” She turned to Starsky and then looked at Hutch.

“So, what are you doing here?”

Starsky smiled and shrugged and Hutch looked at his shoes.

“What’s going on?” Dobey said.

“Why is something going on? Just wanted to make sure you were okay . . .”

“Cut the crap, Starsky – just tell me. You know I’ll find out anyway . . .”

“Harold, calm down . . .”

“Edith, I am not calming down until they tell me why all of a sudden they’ve got hours and hours to spend with me.”

Edith turned to Hutch. “Ken, you better tell him. I will not have him upset like this.”

Starsky and Hutch exchanged a glance. Then Hutch spoke.

“Chief call you yet?”

“Yes, he came by, but Harold was sleeping,” Edith answered.

“Well, you know they assigned us a new captain . . .”

“Standard procedure, yeah, so?” Dobey struggled to sit up a little higher in the bed.

“So, well, our new captain gave us the afternoon off.” Starsky said.

“What did you do?” Dobey leveled his gaze at Starsky.

“Why do you think I did anything?”

“Starsky, I got shot, I’m not stupid. Now what did you do – and who’d they assign to you? Simonetti? I know he just made captain . . .”

“God, he did?” Starsky had not heard that good news. All of a sudden, Kira didn’t seem quite so bad. If they had assigned that ratfink Simonetti to the squad, he would have already been fired. For sure.

“Hardesty. They assigned us Hardesty.” Hutch said.

Dobey didn’t say a word. Just sat for a minute, thinking. He knew the boys had some history with Kira Hardesty. She had worked the dance hall case with them. Rumor had it that she dated Starsky for a while. All he knew for sure was that it was during that case that he had to call them both into his office for a “come to Jesus” meeting. The first one he’d ever had to have with them. Gave them both a reprimand in their jackets. Didn’t help – he lost them for a while. Then they came back and seemed to be back to normal. Better. And then Starsky got shot in the parking lot . . .

“Captain, you remember Kira Hardesty?” Starsky asked.

“Yeah, yeah – remember you two acted like children around her. Something you need to tell me?”

Hutch spoke up. “No, Cap – it’s okay – we got it squared away. Just waiting on her to pull the files on Wally Stover and then we’re gonna hit the ground running.”

Dobey looked from one to the other. He was not satisfied with the explanation, but knew he couldn’t push anymore. Between the pain in his shoulder and the glare of his wife, he had to let it go.

“Okay, just don’t get into some kind of jam I can’t get you out of, okay? My reach doesn’t travel far from here.”

“Okay, Cap.” Starsky said.

“Yeah, okay, we know.”

Dobey closed his eyes and the nurse entered with another pain shot. He could use it.

gghh

True to her word, Captain Hardesty sent over the files on Wally Stover that afternoon. They had just gotten back to Starsky’s apartment when the box arrived, and Hutch grabbed the first file off the top and began reading. The sooner they got this case solved, the sooner they could get back out on the streets. Alone.

“What the hell?” Hutch’s voice startled Starsky, who had been in the kitchen making a sandwich.

“What is it?”

“Fucking bitch.”

“That’s Captain Fucking Bitch to you. What she do now?” Starsky came into the living room, carrying two plates.

“You’re not going to believe it.” Hutch continued to read, shaking his head at every line on the page.

“I can believe anything about that woman.” Starsky handed Hutch a plate.

Hutch handed Starsky the file and took his plate. Starsky sat in the chair, put his feet on the coffee table, and rested his plate on his lap.

“This about Stover?” he asked as he flipped open the file.

“Not exactly.”

Starsky read three lines. “What the fuck?”

“Yes, exactly.” Hutch leaned back into the couch, waiting.

Starsky read the whole page. Then he threw the entire file over his head. The papers flew out of the file, floating to the ground.

“Not gonna do it. Not one damn thing.”

“Oh, that’s a mature attitude, Starsk – real helpful.”

“Fuck her.”

“That would be a regression. What do we do about it now?”

“Hutch – I’m not gonna do it. She can’t fire me.”

“Yes, Starsky, that’s the whole point. She can fire you.”

“Whose side are you on?”

“That’s low – I don’t care how mad you are.”

“Well, quit defending her.”

“I’m not – and quit yelling at me.”

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are – God, look what’s she’s done to us, already.”

Starsky sat his plate on the table. “Damn her, I lost my appetite – she just makes me crazy, ya know?”

“Which is exactly what she’s trying to do. Now can you calm down

enough to help me figure out what to do, or are you just going to

curse her name all night?”

“Curse her name all night.” Starsky picked up his plate and took a big bite out of his sandwich. “Buckin bips,” he muttered between bites.

Hutch looked at his watch. He figured he had about twelve hours to wade through the files, figure out a plan to catch Stover and Shoes, calm down Starsky, and get to the drycleaners. He opened the next file and settled in.

Starsky ate the rest of his sandwich in silence. Then he leaned over and picked up another file. He flipped it open and read the notes about Stover’s activity during the past six months, written neatly in Kira’s tiny script.

He shook his head. He had thought they were done with her. Woman almost tore them apart. And to think he had actually thought he was in love with her. He had to get his emotions under control, though. Hutch was right. Hutch was always right about her.

After the pain and the anger had left him the last time, he finally realized that Hutch had been taken in by her just like he had. He glanced over to his partner, who was deep in concentration, chewing on a pencil eraser, head cocked. Made his heart ache. They had been through hell and back since then. Getting shot had put that she-devil into perspective – and into the buried past where she belonged. It was over. He had to remember that.

“Hey, Hutch.”

Hutch looked up. “Got something?”

“Sorry.”

Hutch smiled. “Okay, buddy – me, too.”

“No, I mean, sorry I acted like an ass today.”

“Yeah, she’s a piece of work.”

“I guess it just hits too close – almost lost you then.”

“Yeah . . .” Hutch closed the file and leaned over to Starsky. “Not gonna happen again, you know?”

“I know. Ghosts, I guess. Puts me in a bad mood. Only thing ever got between us . . .”

Hutch laid a hand on Starsky’s leg. “Starsky – she’s not getting between us this time. Look at me.”

Starsky leaned up and looked at Hutch.

“Last time, it was different. I was different. We were different. Nothing getting between us now. Nothing.”

Starsky reached over and squeezed Hutch’s neck. “Me and thee, huh?”

“Damn right – now could you get back to work? We have to get these guys. For Dobey, if nothing else. And we’re gonna have to do it by the book – and it’s gonna have to be Kira’s book. So we better get used to it, I’m afraid. And we better send Manny some flowers or something.”

Starsky sighed and leaned back. “I know, Hutch – but my car?”

“You can handle it – look how long I’ve had to.”

gghh

The next morning Starsky pulled the Torino into the back parking lot of Metro, got out and walked across the lot. Bernie Glassman, just heading to his squad car, stopped in shock. His partner, Mark Harris dropped the files he was carrying and had to scramble to pick them up. One of the papers landed at Starsky’s feet and he leaned down to pick it up.

“Better hang onto that, Mark – looks important.” Starsky smiled and held out the paper.

“You got court today, Starsk?” Mark asked, taking the sheet and tucking it into the file, exchanging a glance with Bernie.

“Hey, Starsky – you going undercover with the circus or what?” Bernie asked as he joined them. “Where’d you get that outfit?”

Starsky looked down at his bright green and white checked suit coat and bright green pants. “What? You guys don’t recognize style? Maybe I just wanted to class it up a bit.”

“And the shoes?” Mark chuckled. Starsky had traded in his addidas for white shiny patent leather loafers. “You sure you’re not going undercover?”

Bernie laughed. “Oh, I get it – you’re trying to get suspended.”

“Hey, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Starsky, I saw the memo – the new dress code for detectives.”

“Yeah, so?”

“Yeah so, I also saw who signed the memo . . .”

“Yeah, so?”

“Yeah, so since when do you follow dress codes? Remember when Dobey had to get you special permission from the Chief for your blue jeans?”

“Bernie, you got a suspicious mind.”

They were interrupted by a honk, and they all moved out of the way as Hutch pulled into the parking spot beside them. He shook his head as he got a good look at his partner. I should have picked him up this morning – I knew I should have picked him up this morning, he thought as he got out of the LTD, dressed in a beautifully cut, dark brown, double breasted suit.

Mark gave a low whistle. “Now that is a sharp suit, Hutch.”

“Thanks.” Hutch walked up and nodded to Bernie. “Glassman.”

“Hutchinson, how’s it going?”

“Well, I don’t know, I can barely hear you over the noise of that,” he said and pointed to Starsky.

“Hey! What’s the matter with my suit?”

“Starsky – I told you to wear the blue one. What happened?”

“Didn’t have shoes to match. Had to borrow these from Huggy as it is.”

They said goodbye to the two officers, and walked into the building. They stopped conversation all the way to the squad room, where, when Starsky walked in behind Hutch, everyone burst out laughing.

“Oh my God, Starsky