This was originally part of a Five Times thing on the theme of “What if Starsky and Hutch had never gotten to know each other?” While each piece can be completely read on its own, they do fit together.

 

The order of this Five Times, called “Between Strangers” is:

1. “Shipping Out”

2. “Better Late”

3. “Bedford Falls All Over Again”

4. “Than Never”

5. “The Journey Itself Is Home”

 

 “Than Never”

By Pepper Ckua

The meeting had gone later than he thought it would. Passing through the darkened lobby, he gave a wave to the security guard sitting in the side office, the soft glow of a monitor the only illumination in the room.

“Working late again, sir?”

“You called that one right, Steve,” he said with a wave. “You keeping the bank all safe and sound from intruders?”

“You called that one right, Mr. Hutchinson,” the guard replied. “After all, that’s what you pay me for. And hey, I wanted to congratulate you on making Vice President. That’s gotta feel pretty good.”

“Thanks. It does,” Hutchinson said. “Say, Steve? Your little boy doing better?”

“He is. The chemo isn’t knocking him out like it did last time.”

“Good to hear it. Give him, and your wife, a hello from Nancy and I.”

“I will,” Steve replied. He made a quick scan of the security monitor, and then looked back at Hutchinson. “Now don’t stay too late.”

“I won’t,” Hutchinson lied.

Taking the stairs, he was winded by the time he got to the third floor. Hutchinson unlocked his office, glad that the janitor had come and gone. He wasn’t in the mood for that much conversation, especially with Ricardo. Hutchinson supposed the man was lonely, but it made him tired to employ his year of high school Spanish to understand even a fraction of what the janitor was talking about.

Hutchinson sat down at his desk and turned on the green banker’s lamp. He lit a cigarette, took a deep draw and put it down on the ashtray next to the phone.

He picked up the pile of pink “While You Were Out” memos sitting by his phone. There were seven of them.

 

 Hutchinson took another draw from his cigarette and began reading.

“Call Mr. Bates about rescheduling meeting. Urgent.”

“Your wife called. She wants you to pick up milk, two cans of creamed corn and a box of Midol.”

“Your mom called. She said to tell you the mayor’s cocktail party has been postponed due to a medical emergency. I’ll cancel the rush at the cleaners.”

“Mr. Bates called again. He said the paperwork for the Federated Charities, Capricorn Mortgage Company and New World Textiles merger was put in the mail today. Mr. Bates’ boss will be out of town over the weekend, so Monday looks like the day to call for a reschedule.”

“Mr. Hutchinson, as per your request, this is a reminder: The tellers are having their monthly social lunch thing on Wednesday at the Rusty Scupper. Do you want me to order some flowers to be sent over, or would you rather pay for a round of desserts? Let me know by tomorrow afternoon.”

“Nancy called again. She said she’s planning on keeping the babysitter for Saturday night, despite the mayor’s cancellation. She asked me to make dinner reservations at the Radisson instead.”

“Mr. Bates called again! He said to tell you to go ahead and file the Gunther papers. The accounts here at the bank were cleared. He reminded you of the paperwork. Apparently, there is a RUSH on this. Also, the flowers in the lobby are from Gunther Enterprises, thanking First Bank of Duluth expediting the paperwork. Do you want me to prepare a thank you note to him? Let me know.”

Hutch ripped a blank memo page off the pad. He wrote: “Miss Forsythe, see if you can’t get a hold of Larry Bird for me. Your best bet is through Oscar Loesch. His number’s in the Rolodex. I’d like to ask Bird if he could stop in and see Steve Tilson’s little boy at Cook County Memorial. I don’t know if the team’s on the road this week, but see what you can find out.”

He put the note in his secretary’s box and put it in her box. Hutchinson put out his cigarette, locked the office and took the back stairs down to his car.

Instead of heading straight home, Hutchinson took the left on the street that went down to the docks. He parked the car in the parking lot of the Superior Mining building and cut the engine.

Staring out over the darkened waterfront, Hutchinson thought about his wife and the way Nancy had refused to meet his eyes at the breakfast table that morning. Nancy, like the good Minnesota girl that she was, avoided conflict whenever possible. When she was angry, one of the clues gave him was the unnecessary clunk of the plate as it was placed in front of him. Combined with the sidelong stare out the window and Hutchinson knew there was going to be an ugly scene in about twenty-four hours.

He thought about lighting up another cigarette. The memory of the three flights of stairs and lack of breath stopped him. That, and the hole in his Uncle William’s throat, the result of an inability to quit. “Kenny, Kenny,” he’d rasp through his electrolarynx. He’d put the cigarette up to the hole, take a draw, and then put the device back up. “Don’t go down this route, boy. I got a hole in my body where my body wasn’t intended to have a hole. And I still can’t quit.”

Hutchinson couldn’t decide which he hated more, the mechanical sound of William’s voice, the deep rattle he made when he coughed or the ugly sight of a Marlboro sticking partway into his uncle’s neck.

“Can’t quit,” thought Hutchinson. “There are all sorts of things we can’t quit, even when we know they’re killing us.”

The piles of taconite were silhouetted against the night sky. They were perfect cones and reminded Hutchinson of Egyptian pyramids. Even after a lifetime of driving by these large, odd mountains, Hutch still marveled at their symmetry, their blackness and how out of place they really were.

Hutch ran a hand over his face. Then he started the Buick’s engine, flicked the headlights back on and drove home.

XXXXXXXX

“He’ll be here, Ma. If nothing else, have you ever known Nicky to miss your Errol Flynn Special?”

Starsky was on the living room couch. He was looking at the daily racing forms. His feet were on the coffee table.  A woman holding a cup of coffee walked by him and kicked his legs.  They fell to the floor and the bottle of Budweiser he had at his crotch nearly spilled. Starsky dropped the papers in his hand to steady himself. “Watch it, Ma!’

“You watch it. And keep them off. And get that beer out of the living room. People are going to think you were raised in a barn.”

“No, Ma, not in a barn, in a two bedroom apartment on 84^th Street.”

“Don’t be sassy.” She looked up at the clock. “Maybe you should start eating. It’s getting close to seven-thirty, and I don’t want you to be late to work.”

“Neither does Dispatch. My ass… I mean, I’m already in the doghouse for last week.”

The woman busied herself putting plates and napkins on the kitchen table. Starsky could see her silhouette framed by the dim lights underneath the kitchen cabinets. “Well, you did it for a good cause. There’s no way I could have gone down there and gotten him.”

“Sure you could’ve, Ma. All you’d have had to do was call a cab. In fact, I know just the company you should have rang.”

“I know. I just I can’t.”

“I know, Ma. You don’t have to say it. Knowing Nicky was in the clink was bad enough. Having to actually go down there to see it would have been proof that…”

“Shut up!”

Starsky sighed and got up. He put his beer on the table and stretched his back. Looking down at his watch, he shook his head. “I guess I’d better dish up. You sure you don’t want to eat with me?”

“No. I’m gonna wait for Nicky. If he’s this late, he must have had a really bad day.”

“Ma, the guy only works a couple of days a week. Besides, how hard can it be to pick up the boxes that fall off the back of trucks?”

The woman’s hand snapped up towards Starsky’s face. Then she pulled it back. Turning, she took the pan off the stove and set it on the table. Lifting the lid, she asked, “You want more potatoes than carrots or the other way around?”

“Same amount of each, Ma. I like things to be even. ”

She scooped some vegetables onto his plate. Then she put a small amount of beef on it. “It’s a pretty little cut this time. And I want to make sure your brother has a big piece. I don’t like how he’s been looking lately. Sometimes he’s jittery, sometimes he can hardly stay awake. He’s been sleeping until one, two o’clock in the afternoon. I think his iron is low.”

Starsky looked up at his mother. Her attention was on the wall clock. He watched the side of her face until she turned back to him.

“What? The meat tough?”

“No, the meat’s fine. It’s about Nicky. He’s been getting deeper and deeper into that bunch of…”

She stood up with a jerk. “I thought brothers were supposed to stick up for each other. It’s not like either of you have anyone else.” She moved to the sink and turned on the tap. Her back to him, Starsky watched as she put her hands on the counter and kept her head down.

Starsky continued eating.

After a few minutes, she turned off the faucet. “It looks like we’re out of hot water. Would you stop by the super on the way out and tell him?”

“I’ll do that, Ma. You need me to pick up anything after my shift?”

“You’re a good boy, Davy. If you have a chance, stop by Brunstad’s and get some orange juice, maybe a couple of cans of vegetables. Stay away from the creamed corn. Nicky said he doesn’t like it.” She walked to the hall closet and grabbed her purse. She pulled out a ten-dollar bill and handed it to him. “I’d ask you to get bread, but the last loaf you got there got moldy two days later.”

“No problem. I’ll drop them off tomorrow morning.”

“You coming for dinner next week?”

“If you’ll have me.” Starsky kissed her cheek. He put the money in his wallet, grabbed his leather jacket and took the stairs down to the main floor.

He gave a wave to Mrs. Korb who had just come in the front entrance.

Starsky knocked on Mr. Jessup’s door. Not getting an answer, Starsky tore a piece of paper off the side of his last pay stub. Patting his chest, he realized he didn’t have a pen or pencil. Flagging Mrs. Korb down netted him a blue Bic.

Starsky slipped the note under the super’s door.

Then he went out to the street.

Starsky took one more look up at the window on the fourth floor. He watched the light in his mom’s living room turn off.

Starsky looked down at his watch. He had five minutes to make a ten-minute trip. If he were lucky, Cap wouldn’t notice when he logged in late.

He approached the taxicab parked at the curb. He went around to the driver’s side. Starsky opened the door, got in and drove away.