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. “
4. “Than Never”
5. “The Journey Itself Is Home”
“Shipping Out”
By Pepper Ckua
"Don't! Don't even start again with me."
Starsky's voice was filled with rage.
Hutch felt dizzy. His heart was pounding faster
than he thought possible, each pulse feeling like it wasn't finished before the
next one began. "Starsky, I…”
"Look at you! You're standing out here on a
public street. Your shirt is half out of your pants, you're barefoot, shit, even the look on your face is that of man who has just
fucked someone!" Starsky face was red and his hands at his sides were
shaking. "Because that's what you did, didn't you? Not only did you fuck
her, but you fucked us. Hutch, you fucked us over."
Starsky turned to walk around the other side of
the
The next thing he felt was a hard uppercut to his
jaw. The punch made Hutch stagger backwards. His chin was on fire, his neck
sore from the snapback.
But all that mattered was that Starsky was
leaving. His partner opened the door to his car, got in without looking at him
and drove away.
Hutch stood and watched the
He turned around and saw a face at the house's
front window. He watched the curtain fall back. Hutch released a heavy sigh and
put his hand up to his aching cheek.
"Time to face some more of the music,
She opened it before his hand was on the knob. She
had ice wrapped up in a washcloth.
"Here. You'd better get this on it. You go to
work like this, and someone will think your partner punched you out or
something." Her voice was light. Hutch didn't know how he expected her to
sound, but it wasn't like this. In fact, nothing here was right.
"He's probably headed to the beach. I gotta
find him. I gotta fix it,” Hutch said, putting the cold cloth on the side of
his jaw.
"Stay here a while, Ken. Just let him cool
off. In fact, I'll give him a call tonight. He probably just needs a little
sweet-talking." Hutch thought she sounded flirtatious, breathless and more
than a little excited. It made Hutch's stomach queasy. "How about if you
and I actually do what you came here for? At least it would give David a
righteous reason for stomping off like that."
She licked her lips and put her finger on Hutch's
nose. She trailed it down to his mustache and then to his upper lip.
Hutch pushed her hand away and put down the
washcloth. Tucking his shirt in his pants, he grabbed his holster off the back
of the couch. Then he reached down for his shoes.
"You know what, Kira? This was all just a
really bad idea."
"Oh, come on, Ken. You're not going all
gallant on me now, are you? You’ve already admitted that you’ve slept with two
different women in the same week. How's that different?"
"The difference is those women hadn't gone to
bed with my partner. They weren’t…"
"Kenny, I've been around the
Hutch shook his head. "Not this time. Not
with a woman Starsky said he loved, one he… Christ, I'm such a shit."
He grabbed his jacket from the hook by the door.
Hutch pointed to the ice that was melting on the dining room table. "Maybe
you’d better save that for cooling down some other part that's overheated,
‘cause I'm outta here."
Kira pointed to the door. "Don't let it hit
your ass on the way out."
Hutch didn't even turn around to dignify that with
a response.
XXXXXXXX
Hutch drove to the beach. He looked in the two
places where Starsky usually parked his car, but there was no sign of the
Hutch made a quick stop at Vons. He picked up a
jar of Ragu and a six-pack of beer. He hoped he could entice Starsky with the
promise of food just long enough to get some of this whole mess straightened
out.
The first thing he had to do was make his partner
realize that while there were a whole lot of improprieties, he and Kira hadn't
actually slept with each other. "At
least not yet, idiot," Hutch berated himself as he climbed the stairs
to his apartment. The rest of the other shit would have to follow.
He heard the phone ring as he was unlocking the
door. Dropping the grocery sack onto the couch, Hutch grabbed the receiver.
"
"Hutch,
it's Dobey. I'm sending a squad to pick
you up."
"What's going on?"
"It's
Starsky. There's been an accident. Officer Burke and his partner will be by any
minute now."
"Forget it. Is it Memorial? I'll be…”
"Detective!
I don't want you driving. Wait for the squad."
"How bad is it?"
"Bad
enough, but he should be all right." Dobey's voice was rough. "I'll
explain when you get here."
Hutch heard the sound of a distant siren. He made
it downstairs just as the black and white pulled up to the curb.
XXXXXXXX
Dobey met him in the lobby. He had a large plastic
bag in one hand and Starsky’s leather jacket slung over the other arm.
"I was just wondering if I should go up and
have you paged, or wait," he said as they both strode to the elevator.
"He's been moved to a room on the fourth floor."
Hutch felt a measure of relief move through him.
"So he's not in the ICU?"
"No, he's stable. They put him in a general
ward." Dobey pushed the elevator button and the doors opened immediately.
Hutch followed the captain in. He took Starsky's jacket from Dobey and pushed
the button for the fourth floor.
"Tell me what happened."
"Not a whole lot to tell. Word is the
Hutch's stomach fell to his feet, a long, sickening
drop. "Sounds serious."
"Could have been worse, considering how fast
the other guy was going. The idiot ran the red light on Pico and Vanowen and
t-boned Starsky's car. Starsky probably didn't even have a chance to turn his
head."
Especially if he'd been distracted by the ugly
scene of a few hours ago, Hutch thought with shame.
The elevator doors opened and the two men strode
out. Hutch followed his captain's lead as they headed to the nurses’ station.
The doctor there looked up. “You must be here for
the car accident.”
“No,” Hutch replied. “We’re here for David
Starsky. I’m his partner and power-of-attorney. This is his boss.” Hutch tilted
his head towards Dobey.
Looking down at a file on the counter, the doctor
explained that Starsky had been lucky considering how the paramedics had
described the state of the car. His main injury was a moderate concussion
sustained when he'd apparently hit his head on the side window. Starsky’s left
side was badly bruised, the result of an impact against the door.
Looking back up for the first time, he said,
"A day or so here and he should be ready to get out of here."
Hutch heard Dobey's exhale of relief.
"Go sit with him, Hutchinson," Dobey had
ordered gruffly. "I'm headed back to the station to clean up the mess of
paperwork this has made."
XXXXXXXX
Hutch looked down at his partner. The left side of
Starsky's face was darkening with an ugly bruise. There was a stitched up cut
over on eye. For a
A small area on the left side of Starsky’s head,
just above his ear, had been shaved. The white bandage there looked like it
something his partner would want to scratch later.
Between the itch and the bald spot, Hutch had a
vision of an indignant Starsky looking in the mirror the next morning and
complaining about an over-zealous, razor-wielding nurse.
Maybe, Hutch thought morbidly, it would give the
man another thing to be mad about, possibly diverting some of his rage away from
his idiot of a partner?
Then again, maybe not.
Hutch sat down in the chair next to the bed. He
put Starsky's jacket on the bedside table.
An hour or so later, Starsky began to make the
familiar noises of someone returning to consciousness. Hutch put down the
magazine he was reading and leaned over the bed rail. He put his hand on
Starsky's arm and let it rest there. Starsky's eyes fluttered open. He stared
straight up.
"Hey, buddy," Hutch said softly. Starsky
didn't respond at first.
Hutch said it again. His partner turned his head
toward him and grimaced.
"I know, buddy. It's got to hurt." Hutch
smiled. "You want something to drink?"
That got a slight nod and another grimace. Hutch
reached across the leather jacket on the table and poured some water into the
styrofoam cup. He stuck a straw in it and brought it to Starsky's lips. It took
him a
"You know where you are?" Hutch asked.
Starsky attempted a small nod. "'ospital."
Hutch nodded. “That’s right. Do you know
why?"
Starsky looked puzzled. "'chrapnel?"
"What?"
"Shrapnel?" Starsky repeated with more
enunciation.
Hutch didn't know how to reply. "Where do you
hurt, buddy?"
"Head. Side."
"You want me to get the doctor?"
"Yeah," Starsky answered, his eyes
starting to close. "Who…who are you?"
Hutch felt his mouth drop open. He pushed the call
button for the nurse.
Looking over at his partner, he saw that Starsky
was out again.
XXXXXXXX
"It's not uncommon for people with head
injuries to have some short-term memory problems. I'm sure he'll feel a lot
more coherent when he wakes up next time. And of course, we'll keep an eye on
it, Detective." The doctor's voice was probably meant to be soothing, but
Hutch thought maybe it was more out of habit than empathy. It bothered him that
the man didn’t look him in the face while he talked, instead focusing on the
paper file in his hand.
"You're still thinking of releasing him
tomorrow?"
"I'll discuss it with Dr. Franklin. He comes
on duty this afternoon. But it will either be tomorrow or the next day. The
memory thing is probably no big deal." The doctor made an effort at lightheartedness.
"Besides, we need that bed for actual sick people, Detective."
"Yeah. Right." Hutch said. He looked up
from the nurses' station and saw an orderly come out of Starsky's room. He was
pushing an empty IV pole.
The man waved him over. "You were the one in
there before?"
Hutch nodded.
“I think he's waking up," the orderly said as
Hutch quickly strode to the door.
Starsky was touching the bandage on his head and
running his fingers over the stitches over his eye.
"Hey, Starsk, how're you doing?"
"All right, I guess. What happened to
Reasoner and Touhy?"
"Who?"
"Reasoner and Touhy." Starsky tried to
raise his head to look around. "They're all right aren't they?"
"Starsky, I don't know who you're talking
about."
"Then please get someone who does."
"Like who?"
"Hey, I'm not the one in charge here. I'm
just a grunt. Even if there's some security thing goin' on here, I think I've
got a right to know what happened to my buddies."
"Starsky, I'm not sure who you're talking
about." Hutch put his hand on Starsky's arm. "Do you know where you
are?"
"The angle of light from the window tells me
I'm not in
Hutch didn't know what to say.
"I'd think you were the doctor, but you ain't
wearing a white coat. If you're an officer, then the civvies confuse me. You'll
have to forgive me for not saluting." Starsky closed his eyes.
"Listen, just find out what happened to Touhy and Reasoner, would'ja?" He turned his head to the side and was
quiet.
"Starsk?" Hutch gave his partner’s arm a
little squeeze. "Starsk, I hate to ask you this, but you…you wouldn't be playing with me here? You know,
giving me a good scare for w--what happened?"
Starsky looked puzzled.
"Because it'd be less than I deserved. I
mean, if you were mad enough about Kira? If it were me? Hell, is this all a big
fake? Starsk?"
Starsky didn't answer. He'd gone back to sleep.
XXXXXXXX
The doctor and the nurse chased Hutch out of room
the next time Starsky was awake.
Hutch went down to the lobby, found a pay phone
and gave Dobey the best update he could.
"He
thought maybe he was on an aircraft carrier? Or in
"No scam, Cap’n," Hutch replied tiredly.
"Whatever.
Just get him home, and keep me in touch. I imagine he’ll be off work for a
couple of weeks, at least. Personnel will be in touch with his doctors about
his return date. In the meantime, ahh, good luck."
"I think I'm gonna need it," Hutch
thought as he hung up.
He spent the next hour sitting in Starsky’s room.
The other two beds there were empty, something Hutch was thankful for; he
didn’t think he could handle the extra activity.
If Hutch stayed seated, he could only see the
right side of his partner’s face. From that angle, it looked like Starsky was
simply napping. He was relieved to see his partner’s color was better.
Nurses came and went, measuring and evaluating,
then writing things down on a clipboard. There was a calm, unhurried way about
them. Hutch took it as a sign that Starsky was going to be just fine. The
disorientation was alarming, but like the doctor said, probably nothing to
worry about.
The sun was starting to go down and the room was
bathed in a softer light. Hutch felt the stress of the day getting the better
of him. He was aware of not being able to keep his eyes open, but could do
nothing to stop the soft slide of sleep.
Starsky’s voice woke him up. “Hey, if this is some
sort of suicide watch, you ain’t doin’ a very good job. And the bruise on your
jaw makes me think you’d go down easy in a fight.”
It took Hutch a minute to remember where he was.
Then he realized Starsky was staring at him.
“Seriously, if I was gonna off myself, you
wouldn’t be too hard to sneak by.” Starsky sounded disdainful.
“Suicide? You want to…what are you talking about?”
“Why else would someone be sitting in a hospital
room with me? Watching me sleep can’t be that interesting.”
“Starsk, I know you’re angry. You have every right
to be. We gotta…we
gotta talk. Not now, but when you’re feeling better.”
Hutch scraped his chair closer to the bed. Starsky
winced at the sound.
“Talk about what? About how I shouldn’t beat
myself up for something I couldn’t stop? That none of it is worth taking my own
life over? Sure, I’ll go along with that.”
“What are you talking about?” Hutch didn’t know
what to make of the look on his partner’s face. Somehow it was harder, and at
the same time, emptier.
Starsky turned his head and faced the ceiling.
“When do I get out of here?”
“The doctors are deciding. Maybe tomorrow, maybe
the next day.”
Starsky didn’t respond. Hutch looked up at the ceiling
where his partner was staring. He watched the shadows move across the ceiling
tiles, the light from the window shifting and moving.
“My ma around?” Starsky asked.
“Your
“Yeah, my ma. Short lady, big nose, pushy, smells
like onions, likes to laugh, probably wearing a dress that’s twenty years old.
You can’t miss her.”
“Starsky, I didn’t even think of your
“Listen, I may be short on luck, but not on
brains. I sleep on the lady’s couch. Why in the world would I drop a dime on
her from there? If nothin’ else, I don’t show up for dinner and she’ll have
half the neighborhood on alert.”
Hutch’s growing discomfort with the conversation
took a decidedly southern drop.
“Starsky, where do you think you are?”
“In a hospital. Most likely
This scared the hell out of Hutch.
XXXXXXXX
“You told me his disorientation wasn’t that
serious, that I shouldn’t worry.” Hutch knew his voice was too loud when the
doctor asked him to come with him to an empty room with a door.
“I didn’t say that,” the doctor said, shutting the
door behind them. “I said it’s not uncommon for people to be a little confused
after an injury like the one Detective Starsky has sustained.”
“A little confused? He thinks he’s in
“Give him some time. Things will probably sort
themselves out.”
“Probably? Listen, I can’t…” Hutch felt himself advancing on the man. The
doctor must have felt it, too, as he stepped backwards and put his hand on the
phone.
“Detective
Hutch tried to make his body calm down. He could
feel his hands shaking. He put them in his pocket. The fact that the only thing
he’d had to eat that day was a cup of tepid coffee and a Three Musketeers bar
didn’t help his stress.
Kira’s offer to fix him a big breakfast the day
before seemed like it was weeks ago.
The door opened, making Hutch jump.
It was Dr. Franklin. “I was told you were in
here.” He turned to the other man and asked, “Dr. Sibley, we need to confer.
I’ve arranged for room 214.”
Dr. Franklin looked at Hutch. “Give Dr. Sibley and
I some time to consult here. Go down and get a sandwich in the cafeteria. They
serve until 8:00. That’ll give you, and us, at least an hour. I’ll tell you
what we know when you come back up.”
Hutch didn’t think his body would move. It
surprised him when his head nodded and then his feet moved him to the door. His
throat hurt, but he managed to croak a quick thank you.
XXXXXXXX
With a tuna salad sandwich under his belt and the
meeting with Dr. Franklin still ringing in his head, Hutch spent the rest of
the night at Starsky’s place.
He had debated going back up to Starsky’s room,
but
Hutch didn’t have the energy to ponder the oddness
of stretching out on the bed, in an apartment his partner didn’t even remember.
He kicked off his shoes, shoved a pile of dirty clothes onto the floor and
pulled the blanket from the couch up over himself.
If Hutch didn’t know better, he’d have thought
he’d had a dreamless night.
Gathering up a change of clothes for his partner,
Hutch made it back to the hospital just as the nurse was clearing away the
breakfast tray.
Starsky was sitting up, his IV gone and the
bandage on his head was a little smaller.
He looked up when Hutch came into the room. “You
again? What did you do? Draw the short stick?”
Not waiting for an answer, Starsky patted his
belly through the thin blanket. “I don’t think I’ve had a meal that good in
months. It wasn’t cold, I had a fork and napkin and everything was separated on
the plate. There were even little paper packets of salt and pepper.” He
grinned. “Is this livin’ or what?”
Hutch exhaled. Then he tossed the duffel bag onto
the chair. “I got you some clothes to go home in.”
“Great. I think they got my clothes mixed up with
someone else. Someone with a few more pounds on ‘em, had an odd, tan jacket and
a gun holster. How weird is that? At
least these funny, blue shoes fit.”
Starsky swung his legs over the side of the
bed. “Gonna hit the head.”
Hutch asked, “You need any help?”
“Been hitting the head by myself for about
nineteen years. I think I can manage.”
Starsky grabbed the bag of clothes and slowly
walked to the bathroom.
Hutch sat down and waited. He thought back to the
conversation he’d had with
The doctor also emphasized that it was important
to keep Starsky’s stress level low. The best way to do it was to limit outside
influences.
“Discourage reading current news, distract him
with something to keep him from turning on the television, and most
importantly, give him some time before going out to something like the grocery
store. It’s too much change, too much stimulation. That goes for the people he
knows. Go easy on company. The ideal situation is to keep things low-key, quiet
and free of things that would make him force the issue of his memory loss.”
“That’s all a pretty tall order,” Hutch had
remarked. “I mean, the guy’s gonna have to interact with the outside world at
some point.”
“Of course he will. But the best-case scenario is
that this whole thing will resolve itself shortly, and my directions will be
moot. Any longer than that, and it will be something the psychiatrists will
take up with him.”
Hutch had grimly smiled. “Maybe I’ll take him down
to the beach? We might get lucky and have a coconut fall on his head.”
“I’m afraid that only works in the movies,
Detective. Another injury to his head would more likely result in a case of
secondary impact, rather than get his memory back.”
“How will it happen? His memory returning.” Hutch
sounded a little desperate, even to his ears. It was embarrassing.
“He may remember things in bits and pieces. It may
come back all at once. It could happen as he leaves the hospital, it could be
tomorrow, it could be next week. And it may take a month, maybe longer.”
“What if that missing time never comes back?”
“Let’s not buy trouble.” Dr. Franklin took off his
glasses. “It’s important to know that head injuries are as much art as they are
science.”
“Sounds like he might have better luck with a
witch doctor,” Hutch said.
“Sometimes I feel like I am one, Detective,” the
doctor replied with a shrug.
As Dr. Franklin was checking his watch, Hutch had
had an unnerving vision of a group of white-coated doctors all adorned with
feathers and dancing around a fire.
Ten minutes later, Starsky came out of the
bathroom. “These clothes fit
surprisingly well. I didn’t think they would, seeing the size on the jeans. I
guess Ma’s cooking paid off. I know I didn’t come out to
“
“Sure. I looked out the window and saw the palm
trees. Ratty thing that it is, the only palm tree in
“So, Starsky, what are you doing in
“Just got here. I was thinking of driving a cab. I
did for a while in
“Yeah,” Hutch asked warily. The whole conversation
felt like a minefield.
“Yeah.” Starsky ran his hand over his face. “I’d
have liked to get a look at this mug. Besides needing an obvious shave,
something doesn’t seem right.”
Hutch handed him his leather jacket. “You got that right,” he thought.
“That mine? Or that other guy’s?” Starsky looked
suspicious.
“Both. Just take it.”
“Nice coat,” Starsky replied. “I’m impressed.”
An intern with a wheelchair appeared. “Looks like
my chariot is here,” Starsky said. “Though you never explained just who you
are, I appreciated the company. Maybe I’ll be seein’ you sometime?”
The intern pushed the chair down the hall towards
the elevator. Hutch walked next to him. When the elevator door opened, Starsky
gave him a wave. “Catch you later.”
Hutch followed them in.
“You certainly will, as I’m driving you home.”
“Drivin’ me home? Say, just who are you anyway?”
“I’m a cop.”
Hutch could feel the intern’s body stiffen. He
wondered if the man had any outstanding warrants. Hutch also watched Starsky’s
shoulders move back a bit.
“A cop, huh? Am I under arrest?”
“No. Not at all.”
“Is it something with Nicky?”
“No.” Hutch said, then thought, “Not this time.”
“I realize I’ve never asked you your name.”
“It’s Hutchinson, Ken.”
Starsky was quiet all the way to the sidewalk.
“So,
this is what a cop’s salary buys?” Starsky remarked when he saw the LTD.
“This
is what this cop’s salary buys,” replied Hutch, taking the wheelchair his
partner had just gotten out of. He handed it over to the intern, telling him,
“Thanks. I appreciate it.”
“No
problem, man. It gets me outside even if it’s just for a minute,” he said. Over
his shoulder, the intern added, “Not enough time for a smoke, but better than
nothing.” Hutch had the feeling the man couldn’t get away fast enough. Shaking
his head, Hutch wondered just how outstanding those warrants were.
While
Starsky got in the car, Hutch got his service blanket out of the trunk. He
handed it to his partner. The late February weather was on the chilly side, and
Hutch thought Starsky would use it to keep warm. Instead of covering himself
with it, Starsky shoved the blanket up as buffer between his head and the glass
of the passenger side window.
“I’ll
probably be asleep before you pull out of the parking lot. Who’d have thought that
three days in the hospital would’ve been that tiring? And hey, be careful with
the bumps.”
“Don’t
think it was the hospital, so much as the crack on the head and possible
subsequent confusion that’s putting you out.”
“Subsequent
confusion. Is that what we’re callin’ it? Not mental cripple? Or brain damaged?
Or even
“I
wasn’t sure what you knew. The doctors said you needed to really take it easy,
to let all this move along at its own pace.”
Starsky
grimaced as he twisted a little and tried to get comfortable. He was asleep
before Hutch turned left onto the main road.
Rather
than the faster route, Hutch ended up choosing the long way home. It may have
added ten minutes to the trip, but the lack of stop-and-go and honking horns
had to have been more relaxing to someone who must have a pounding headache.
Glancing
over at his partner, Hutch was struck by the tension in his face, even in
sleep. The memories of
Hutch
woondered about what his thoughts would be if a decade
had been stripped from him. For one thing, he’d still be married to Vanessa.
He’d probably be sitting around some seedy bar after another disturbing fight.
Hutch absentmindedly put his hand up to his own cheek, half-expecting to feel
the heat of a hard slap.
He
thought of his father and how’d he’d still be alive; Hutch would still have a
chance to make amends.
And
it was about ten years ago that he’d made the decision to go to the Academy,
when he had first met Starsky.
Thinking
of how his partner had lost the very time they’d known each other made
something in Hutch’s stomach feel like it was going to break. Maybe in some
cosmic way, that was the idea? Why, a little hippie spirituality mixed with a
Minnesotan Lutheran guilt complex could be put to good use, even here in
But
even if the memories of the last ten years were absent, Hutch couldn’t believe
they were actually gone. Hutch wouldn’t be surprised that even if Starsky
couldn’t remember the whole story with Kira, it was the residual stress of
thinking of his best friend betraying him with his best girl that was probably
burning a wicked hole somewhere inside his own belly.
It
was enough to make Hutch almost wish he could have had a whack on the head, too,
for if nothing else than to knock some sense into it.
Hutch
took the right onto Ridgeway, drove the nine blocks to Starsky’s house and
pulled the car up to the front of the house. He cut the engine and touched his
partner’s arm. Starsky jumped a little and then blearily opened his eyes.
“Where
are we?” he asked.
“Home.”
“Who’s
home?” Starsky asked, looking up his place.
“Yours.
I debated about taking you to
Starsky
put the service blanket over the back of the seat and swung his legs out. He
grimaced, “I guess I kind of stiffened up in there. How long was I out?”
“Twenty
minutes, give or take a few.”
They
slowly made it up the stairs. Starsky stopped once and leaned on the rail. His
face was a little pale. Hutch noticed he didn’t look around at the neighborhood
while he rested, but down at his shoes. Starsky was probably feeling pretty
damned overwhelmed; his injuries, combined with the rest of the situation,
would be enough to send anyone for a loop.
Hutch
felt for the key above the door and got them both inside. He put the plastic
hospital bag down on the chair next to the door and hung his jacket up on the
hook. He took Starsky’s and did the same.
Starsky
looked lost.
“Want
something to eat?”
“No.
I just want to lie down. Point me to the bedroom, would ya?”
XXXXXXXX
Starsky
kicked off his shoes and stretched out on the bed. Hutch went in a few minutes
later, put a glass of water on the bedside table and tossed the blanket over
him.
“You
can take the painkiller
Starsky
didn’t say anything but raised one hand slightly.
Hutch
went into the kitchen and made himself a sandwich. He sat down on the couch and
gave Dobey a quick call. His boss was glad for an update, telling him to take
the rest of the week off to help his partner.
Hutch
was picking a magazine up off the coffee table when the phone rang. He snatched
it up, hoping to keep a second ring from filling the apartment.
“Yeah?”
Hutch asked, turning the telephone over to turn down the ring volume.
“Hutch? It’s Kira. I heard
Dave was in some sort of accident.” She sounded concerned. “Is he all right?”
“He
will be.”
“Can I talk to him?”
“He’s
sleeping right now.”
“Sleeping? It’s almost
lunchtime. You sure he’s not just sleeping off a late night?”
“I’m
sure. I gotta go.” Hutch hung up the phone.
He
finished his sandwich and took a shower. Opening the bathroom door, Hutch was
relieved that Starsky was still asleep.
Hutch
wondered if he would be granted some sort of miracle. Maybe when Starsky woke
up, things would be back to normal? Or at least as normal as they could be
right now.
Hutch
spent the next few hours pitching dirty laundry into a basket, taking out the
trash and reading Starsky’s Car and
Driver magazines.
Just
after four o’clock, Hutch looked up to see Starsky standing in the living room
doorway.
“Some
pad I got here, though I gotta tell you, there’s no way I could move all this
stuff in an afternoon using one car.”
“Sleep
okay?”
Starsky
shrugged, then looked like he wished he hadn’t. “I need to use the head. And I
thought I’d take a shower.”
“The
doc says it’s okay?”
“I’m
just not supposed to get my noggin too wet. Doesn’t sound like the best use of
hot water, skipping my hair, but I’m pretty rank.” Starsky paused a
Hutch
didn’t know how to respond.
Starsky
went into the bathroom and shut the door.
“Christ!”
Hutch heard his partner exclaim.
“You
okay in there?”
“I
look like my Uncle Al. Just put a seersucker suit and a pair of heavy glasses
with a yellow tint, and I’d be the spitting image of a used car salesman. What
the hell happened to me?”
“Like
I said, you okay in there?”
“Yeah.”
Hutch
heard the water in the shower go on. He got up and made his way to the kitchen.
He got a jar of spaghetti sauce out of the cupboard and set a pan of water to
boil for noodles.
“You’d
think I’d hate this stuff,” his partner had told him once, twirling his fork in
a plate of spaghetti. “I mean, having a grandmother living over Italian
restaurant and all?”
Hutch
had waited warily for the explanation of why Starsky couldn’t keep away from
jarred tomato sauces. He didn’t have to wait long.
“Jus