INTUITION
By
Charlie
Conover looked at the five cards in his hand: Jack of Clubs, 9 of Clubs, 2 of Hearts, 2 of Diamonds, Ace of Diamonds,
and then at the pot of bills in the center of the table. Don’t
chance it. He told himself.
Throwing
his hand down, he folded for the evening.
“That’s it for me guys, I’m just about tapped out.”
Two
of the other participants in the poker game hurriedly agreed that they were
done for the evening also. Robert Walters,
the fourth person and the overwhelming winner of the evening, looked over
his hand in disgust at his co-workers. They
had gotten together for this impromptu game on the site of their latest job.
All
four men were construction workers currently laying the foundation for the
new City Hall to be located on Main and Sixth where the old O’Neill’s Department
Store once stood. Charlie, Rob, and
Mark Stanley were all cement pourers and bricklayers; Jack Caswell was their
supervisor. It was late on
Rather
than push his luck, Rob suggested that they all head down to The Sportsman’s
Bar for a few more drinks. Charlie
looked at his watch, it was already
A
few more hours of continuous drinking and carousing took place. Soon accusations of cheating and threats were
bandied about. Several times bar manager
- Rusty - threatened to throw them out for their loud, obnoxious behavior. Rob offered to pick up the bar tab with his
winnings to cool down rising tempers. Mark
and Jack left together, leaning on each other’s shoulders while waiting for
their cab to pick them up. Rob stayed
behind until Rusty finally kicked him out.
Stumbling
past the few garbage cans in the alleyway behind the bar, Rob began the ten-block
walk to his downtown apartment on Fourteenth. As he approached Rockton and Ninth, a slight shadow slipped behind him and stealthily approached
the drunken form. Just as Rob turned,
he caught the glint of ebony metal, a small pistol, as it slammed down on
the side of his head just behind his left ear. He fell without a sound.
“….you’re
gonna love it.” Announced
Starsky’s arrival into the Squad room on Monday morning January 5th. Trailing behind him with his hands shoved deep
into the pockets of his leather jacket was his partner Ken Hutchinson, whom
Starsky was trying to coerce into having a belated holiday party at his
“Starsk,
what makes you think I want to even go
to a holiday party, much less host one?”
Turning
from the coffee pot, mug in hand, Starsky tried once again to convince his
partner what a blast it would be for the two of them to host a party and invite
all their friends. Starsky’s place
was too crowded, but Hutch’s open-air cottage, combined with the empty lot
next door would provide plenty of room. “We
can rent a tent for outside and get lights.
Huggy can set up his stereo system in your living room for dancing. It’ll be great Hutch, you’ll see.”
“Besides,
there isn’t enough time to get invitations out and we probably couldn’t rent
a tent at this late date.” Replied
the blonde smugly, thinking that was a much easier way out than trying to
argue with his best friend.
“No
problem. We just call ‘em up and invite
everyone over the phone. Give ‘em time,
date, and place, and voila!”
“That
is so tacky Starsky! Nobody attends
a party without a personal invitation.”
“Any
party like that, and I don’t want to go – too stuffy
for me.”
Hutch
ignored the put-down to his conservative upbringing and sat down at his desk
looking at the few folders that sat there.
The holiday season always seemed to lessen the crime statistics, as
if most criminals had a change of heart from November 24 thru January 2. Starsky threw his left leg over the back of
his chair and straddled it before sliding down into the seat. Just as his lower extremities found a somewhat
comfortable position in the hard wooden chair, their Captain stepped out and
asked to see them in his office about a new case.
Once
the two men were settled, Dobey closed the door behind them and walked to
his large oak desk, handing the slim manila folder in his hands to Hutch. He let the two men peruse the case file for
a minute without saying anything. “Hey
Cap?” announced Starsky, who was reading the file over Hutch’s shoulder. “This isn’t a homicide. It’s a missing persons.”
Hutch
looked up at his superior with confusion in his light blue eyes. “Why involve us? Is it because we’re pretty much caught up?”
Dobey
closed his hands together and looked over the double fist at the two men across
from him. “Because of who the victim
is there is a chance that this could be a homicide, but I’ve been asked to
spare my best men because
of who he is.”
Both
men looked down at the name on the file. ‘Robert
Walters, Jr.’ “Huh?
Who’s he?”
“Robert
Walters, Jr. is the son of Robert Walters, Sr.” said Dobey smugly as if that
explained everything. The two detectives
still had blank looks on their faces.
“And
he is?” Asked Hutch.
“Was. The
father’s deceased.” Dobey leaned back
in his large, creaky chair, which threatened to give. “Robert Walters Sr. was a high profile attorney
in
Starsky
grabbed the folder from his partner’s upturned hands. “So what makes you think that this could be
a homicide?”
“Well,
contrary to what his mother indicates, Robert Walters, Jr., or Rob as he’s
known here, doesn’t have the most pleasant of personalities. He’s been arrested several times for public
drunkenness and for disorderly conduct. He
can’t seem to hold a job down, and it’s my bet his mother’s never seen the
sleazy apartment building he calls his address.”
The
picture of Rob Walters in the folder was a mug shot taken several months before
when he was arrested for an assault charge that was dropped when the victim
refused to cooperate. He had short
medium brown hair that folded over to the right with a small thatch dipping
down his forehead. His eyes were hazel,
nose longish, and thin lips a pale pink. He
would’ve been a nice looking man if it weren’t for the scowl that covered
his face from eyebrows to chin. His
age was listed at 24.
Starsky
studied the photo. “Doesn’t look like
a momma’s boy.”
“Well
he’s sure fooled his mother. She thinks
her son is as clean as the snow on those ski slopes they live near. She’ll be arriving tomorrow.”
Hutch’s
blonde head snapped up. “Uh, Captain,
we’re not expected to hand hold this woman are we? We can’t have her interfering in our investigation.”
“You
don’t think I know that
“Just great.” Mumbled
Starsky.
It
wasn’t the first time they’d run into some wealthy person who thought the
police would benefit from their ‘help’. They
sat in front of Dobey’s desk and griped about high society influence and their
bullheadedness in involving themselves in investigations, until finally Dobey
ordered them to leave his office and start working on Rob Walters’ location.
Several
hours later the two men had visited Walters’ apartment, place of work, and
usual hangouts. They interviewed his
neighbors – who, naturally, didn’t have much to say; and his co-workers –
some of whom said a little too much about the missing man.
The
two then headed back to the office to type up their report on the day’s activities.
“Dobey
was right. This guy seems to be a prime
target to become the victim of a crime.” Read
Starsky while chewing on the end of his pencil. “Drinks a lot, slacks off at work, gets into
fistfights, gambles – possibly cheats.” He
looked over at his partner. “And this
guy is a friend of the Governor’s?”
“Dobey
didn’t say that. He said his parents
were friends of the Reagan’s. The mother
calls Ron & Nancy for help, they pass it off to the Mayor who calls the
Chief and so on down the line.”
“And
we’re the caboose at the end of the train.”
Hutch
smirked. “Well, the ladies are always
saying you have a nice one.”
Starsky
got off the top of his chair where he was balancing and turned around to wiggle
his ass at his friend. “When you’ve
got it, flaunt it.” He joked, using
one of their tried and true lines. Just
then, Minnie came in the squad room carrying some files for another detective. One glance at that sashaying
butt and she pulled her glasses down to the tip of her nose and peered intently.
“My, my. Starsky honey
I knew you had a thing for me, but can’t it wait until we’re alone?” Falling forward in surprise, Starsky went to
grab at the open edge of the door to Dobey’s office. Unfortunately, the large Captain was walking
out at the same time and instead Starsky’s face grabbed the edge, which propelled
him backward and into Simpson’s lap (sitting next to Starsky’s desk), who
puckered his lips and threw a kiss down at the stunned curly-haired detective.
By
now the entire squad room was in an uproar, with Hutch doubled over in his
chair gasping for breath. Starsky’s
face was as red as his infamous long underwear and in between gasps Hutch
couldn’t help but point that out. Then
Minnie offered to check Starsky’s underwear to verify the coloring. Starsky’d had enough. He slid off Simpson’s lap and stormed out, not
waiting for his ‘better half’. Hutch
stumbled behind him, still chuckling at his partner’s expense. “That’s what you get for flaunting it in public
Starsk.” He called down the hall after
the embarrassed man.
The following day brought more information
on the character of Robert Walters, Jr. while the two were interviewing some
of the patrons and bouncers at the places he hung out. Most of it corroborated what the two Metro Detectives
were told the previous day. One of
the bouncers from The Sportsman brought up the fact that Rob’s companion’s
accused him of cheating one inebriated evening a few days before Christmas,
after a poker game, but that the three settled down after being talked to.
Later
that afternoon they had a meeting with Mrs. Walters at her plush five-star
hotel suite. The suite consisted of
a living area, two bedrooms, dressing room complete with wet bar, bathroom,
and secluded balcony. Her companion
during this trip was Anna Decateur, who turned out to be the fiancée of their
missing man.
Anna
was very tiny; perhaps 5’1 with shoulder length curly brown hair and sparkling
amber colored eyes. She was dressed
in a simple, classic outfit of tan cotton dress slacks with a dark blue cardigan
sweater, a rope of pearls and pumps that Hutch’s mother would call ‘proper’.
Mrs. Walters also wore a rope of pearls to set off her outfit of a
gray ankle length A-skirted dress with a thick belt at the middle.
Her bright white hair accented the lightly made up face with the piercing
gray-blue eyes that showed her intelligence.
After
introductions, small talk, and the offer of coffee and cake; the two detectives
pulled out their notepads and smoothly began to discuss the habits and character
of Robert Walters, Jr. or Bobby, as the two ladies called him. The two detectives didn’t want to divulge his
seedier side to his loved ones. Mrs.
Walters answered most of the questions; Starsky let Hutch take the lead in
handling the ladies, while he observed their manners and facial expressions.
The
interview consisted of Mrs. Walters singing Bobby’s praises, with little verbal
input from Anna, just a few nods of confirmation. They told the detectives that they expected
him on the 24th of December, but he never showed up. The detectives already knew from speaking with
Walters’ co-workers that he had no intention of appearing at the family home
for the holidays, but they decided to spare the women of that fact. Though they did confirm that the dark blue 1973
Oldsmobile ’88 Convertible parked in the underground lot of his apartment
building was one that Mrs. Walters bought for him last year.
Mrs.
Walters sensed that the tall blonde detective was empathetic to her and told
him that she felt something was wrong when he son didn’t show up as planned.
Neither female could get a hold of him, so they decided to come to
Anna
sat in her chair quietly, nodding her head in agreement.
The
two detectives left after questioning the ladies further on Rob’s friends,
education, any business deals they might’ve been aware of. Most of the conversation was dominated by Mrs.
Walters, with Anna adding a little regarding Rob’s state of affairs after
he dropped out of college. Starsky
and Hutch left their business cards with the women, reminding the two that
any information they find or remember should be turned over to the police
for further investigation. It was apparent
during the conversation that Rob had lied to these two women about all aspects
of his life.
They
waited until they were in the elevator and out of the ladies range of hearing
before discussing the situation. “Man
this guy is a piece of work. He’s got
his poor mother and fiancée snowed. How
could he let his mother think he was going home for the holidays?”
“It
was good of you not to say anything to them about what he’s really like.”
Starsky
looked downward while toeing the carpet in the elevator. “Well, I didn’t want to hurt them. Eventually they’re gonna find out, but not right
now.”
“Why
do you think so? If we find Walters
alive, there’s no need to dispel their image of the man, however unpleasant
it may be.”
Starsky
looked up into Hutch’s face. “Think
about it Hutch. There’s virtually no
evidence of a crime. But if he left
on his own, why would he leave such an expensive car behind? I mean even if it’s recognizable – he could’a traded it in for something less conspicuous. Unless he’s hurt and can’t tell anyone who he
is.”
“But
we notified all the hospitals.”
“Right. That’s
why I think he’s dead.” Starsky replied
simply.
“Huh?” The blonde was confused. “Did you get something that I missed?”
“No. It’s just a feeling. If he was taken because of his family connections,
then why haven’t they heard anything from the kidnappers?” He paused for a moment as the elevator stopped.
“And I’ll tell you something else.”
Starsky said to his partner as they stepped off the elevator and into
the lush lobby. “I think that poker game the other night had
something to do with it. If Walters
was cheating, and the three had been drinking heavily, that may have been
enough to push one of the others over the edge.”
“It’s
a good theory Starsk; now how can we prove it without a body?”
“First
let’s find out where this poker game took place and who all was involved,
see where that takes us.” Suggested
Starsky as he bounced down the steps in front of the hotel. He turned around and looked back at his partner
who was staring at his darker partner with a look of admiration on his face.
“Come on Hutch.”
Hutch
shook his platinum blonde head. “Sometimes
Starsk you amaze me.” He exclaimed
as he caught up to his partner and the two walked to the parked
“Just sometimes?”
Since
they were told that the poker game in question took place at the construction
site where the three men involved in the near bar-brawl worked, Starsky and
Hutch decided it would be easier to talk to the other men there. The foreman reluctantly gave permission to have
them pulled from their duties for a time.
He walked away from the dark and light detectives to get the two workers.
“But
hey, if it means anything,” he turned back to the waiting detectives, “Walters
was probably gonna get fired soon.”
Blue
eyes met blue eyes as the two drew up stiffly.
“What
do you mean?” Asked Hutch cautiously.
“I
mean he was always late, hung over, there’s evidence he used this place for
personal gain.”
“What
type of ‘personal gains’?”
The
foreman looked down. “Well rumors are
he was running a numbers game for some big shot.
You know, illegal numbers.”
“Quite
a paragon, isn’t he? Why was he hired?
Weren’t his references checked?”
“You’d
have to talk to the main office about that.
But I think he’s a friend of the owner’s, or something like that. Well let me get Jack and Mark.”
After
the foreman walked away Hutch turned to Starsky. “An illegal gambling ring’s another angle we
could pursue if this doesn’t pan out.”
Starsky,
deep in thought, shook his head. “We
could, but I think we’re on the right track here.”
Hutch
stared at his pre-occupied partner, wondering what was rattling between those
dark curls now. But before he could
voice the question, the foreman came back with Mark Stanley and Jack Caswell.
“You
got somewhere we could talk privately?” Starsky
directed the question to the foreman. He nodded at one of the nearby trailers. “That’s my office. You can use it. I’ll make sure you’re not disturbed.”
“I’m
guessing you want to talk more about Rob.”
Said Jack as the four stepped into the stuffy trailer.
Hutch
let Starsky take over the questioning since it was his gut feeling that was
leading the two detectives in this direction.
“Actually
we want to talk more specifically about the little impromptu poker game you
guys were involved in the other night.” Starsky
sat down behind the foreman’s desk. “And the little squabble
afterwards at ‘The Sportsman’.” He
looked directly into the eyes of the standing men facing him, judging the
reaction on their faces. Other than
the slight glance they gave one another, there was no outward alarm or concern.
Starsky indicated with his hand that the two should sit in two of the
chairs in front of the desk, while Hutch sat back on the couch against the
wall and watched his partner at work.
“Well
what about Charlie? Shouldn’t you be
talking to him too?” Asked
Mark.
“Charlie?” Starsky looked down at his notes. There was no mention from the bartender of any
guy named Charlie being involved in the argument.
“Charlie
Conover. He was at the poker game too.
But he didn’t come with us to the bar.
He had to get home ‘cause he was traveling the next day and wanted to rest. He was the one who called the game quits in
the first place. Rob wasn’t too happy
with him about that either.”
Starsky
nodded at Hutch who received the mental message and left the trailer to have
the foreman get Charlie. Meanwhile
Starsky went over the same information they had asked last time: their job duties, and addresses, events on December
22nd. What they did after
leaving the bar. Their opinion of Rob at work and as a friend. He was hoping to see if he could trip them up
from the first time they talked.
But
other than confirming what they had told him and Hutch the day before, nothing
new came out. Their responses were
short and simple, yet Starsky felt they were holding back. Soon Hutch came back in with Charlie Conover.
A short built man who appeared to be in his early 50s, he had salt
and pepper hair.
The
two detectives introduced themselves to Charlie. They didn’t remember talking with him previously,
but if he’d been out of town that would explain his absence from their notes.
“We
understand you were a part of a poker game last Tuesday night with Mike, Jack,”
Starsky nodded toward the two other men, “and Rob Walters?”
“Yes. We usually get together for an impromptu game
once or twice a month. I heard Rob’s
missing. Is that what this is all about?”
The older man looked around the trailer at the other people.
“We
heard some rumors that Rob may have been cheating and it led to an argument
at a bar later that night; where you weren’t in attendance, correct Mr. Conover?”
“Yeah. I
had to leave since I wanted to get an early start on the road. Went to my daughter’s place
for the holiday.”
“And
where does your daughter live?”
“Uh, Lakeport. Why?”
“Can
you provide us with a phone number for your daughter to verify it? And can you provide proof of your whereabouts
from the time you left the poker game to when you arrived at your daughter’s?”
Charlie
looked stunned and his eyes grew wide as he sat down in a folding chair that
Hutch brought over for him. “You don’t…you
don’t think I had anything to do
with Rob’s disappearance do you?”
Hutch
reassured the men. “Nobody here is
under suspicion of anything. Rob could’ve
disappeared on his own. Our investigation is strictly to find out what
may have caused him to disappear. Voluntarily or involuntarily. This is just one of the leads we’re following
up.”
Starsky
folded his hands together as he rested his elbows on the desk. “Anything you can tell us today stays between
us for now and may help us look in other directions for Rob.” He said with meaning. “We really need your help.”
The
three men looked at each other and shrugged.
“What can we tell you that we didn’t tell you before?” Jack asked.
All three men admitted that they suspected
Rob of cheating occasionally, and not just at cards. “Actually Mark here suspected it first,” Jack
pointed out, “and told me to kinda watch out for him. Then I told Charlie when both Mark & I saw
the same card being palmed during a game.”
They
then told the detectives how Rob would brag about Anna, but cheat on her all
the time. How Jack, being his supervisor,
suspected he was cutting corners when mixing the mortar and cement compounds.
“That’s
one of the reasons he was gonna get fired.
I finally told the foreman and we tested some of the blends and looked
at some of his work, most of which had to be reinforced.”
It
appeared that Starsky was writing all of this down. Actually Hutch was writing it down; Starsky
was writing down his impressions of their stories and their body & facial
language.
“You
and Jack took a cab home together that night - correct Mark? Where’d it take you?”
“My apartment. Jack
doesn’t live too far, so after a few more beers, he walked home.”
“What
about Rob? Did you see him leave the
bar? Was he talking with anyone when
you left?”
“Nah,
he was still sitting there. I have
no idea when he left. Never saw him
again.”
Behind
him, on the couch, Hutch tilted his head sideways towards the door. Starsky understood this to mean that he wanted
to talk, so he closed up the conversation by asking the men to keep their
ears open.
Before
going back to the station the two stopped at The Pits to ask Huggy to keep
an ear to the ground about any numbers or drug runners that were new; thinking
that they could be replacements for Walters.
“Okay,
so what’do you got Hutch?” Asked Starsky in reference to the blonde’s signal back at the construction
site.
“We
seem to have no end of suspects since this guy wasn’t the nicest guy on the
planet. I just thought it might be
a good time to regroup. Also, I’m curious
why the foreman didn’t tell us his suspicions about Walters cutting back on
compound ingredients?”
Starsky
appeared lost in thought. “You know
something Hutch? There’s something
about that construction site. Whether
it’s vibes I’m getting ‘cause I think someone there
knows something, or whether it’s something else, I don’t know.” He shook it off and shrugged his shoulders.
“Vibes? I thought you didn’t believe in ESP and stuff
like that.”
“No this isn’t like that; it’s just a hunch.”
Back
at Parker, they delegated some of the needed information to desk duty officers;
calling cab companies, investigating the ever growing pile of possible suspects,
and cross referencing Walters’ previous arrests with any of his current acquaintances.
Since
they didn’t get much time for lunch, and rather than start on a project at
the end of the day, the two stopped for Chinese and went to Starsky’s apartment
to compare notes.
Several
days later while sitting at their desks after coming back from lunch, Dobey’s
door to the squad room opened and he ushered out Mrs. Walters and Miss Decateur.
Always the gentleman, the Captain’s large shoulders and chest were
drawn up as we thrust his arm out to let the ladies pass first.
He took Mrs. Walters’s offered hand and kissed it in a farewell gesture. As she walked by Starsky’s desk she lightly
tapped his cheek. “Hello boys. Keep up the good work.” She remarked with a
knowing smile. Anna smiled gently at
them, but didn’t say anything, hurrying after her fiancée’s mother.
After
they left Starsky turned a stunned face to his partner. “What was that all about?”
A
thunderous voice behind him answered. “I’LL
TELL YOU WHAT THAT WAS ABOUT! In
my office, both of you. NOW!” Dobey was upset about something.
“Close
the damn door – and not with your feet Starsky!”
Approaching
Dobey’s desk carefully, they sat themselves down in the chairs opposite him.
I
just got off the damn phone with a reporter who wanted confirmation on a rumor
he heard on the streets about the Walters investigation.
“And
that would be?” Asked
Starsky as he carefully placed his feet on Dobey’s desk.
Shoving
the feet off, nearly tipping his darker detective over, Dobey expounded the
fact that the reporter wanted confirmation that the police were going to be
using psychics to solve the case of the missing man. “This jerk had the nerve to claim that a source
‘close to the investigation’ has been heard saying that Rob Walters is dead
and he knows this because he ‘feels’
it. We all know what ‘source close
to the investigation’ means! And this
happened while Mrs. Walters had stopped by to get an update. Now where do you think she’s going to talk about
with this?” He looked back and forth
at his baffled detectives. “To the Governor of course!
I want to know which one of you has been talking on the streets and
to whom?!” The angry man specifically
looked at Hutch, knowing his fascination with psychics and mind games. “Can you imagine how this is gonna look to the
Chief?”
“Uh
Captain, that story is highly exaggerated.”
Hutch tried to explain, while Starsky’s face turned dark in anger. “Starsky, uh….” the blonde detective dropped
the rest of the sentence, not wanting to get his dark haired partner in trouble.
Anxious blue eyes met irritated darker ones as Starsky stepped in to
cover Hutch’s gaffe.
“Cap’n what dumb blondie was gonna open
his mouth and say is that I got this gut feelin’ that Walters’s dead. And, yes, maybe we talked to a few of our informants
to get the scoop on what went down in his neighborhood the night he disappeared.
They must’ve talked to someone and stretched what I told ‘em.”
Dobey sat down in his large chair, the
wheels squeaking beneath him and the vinyl crackling as he settled.
“Tell me what else.” The Captain sensed that Starsky was holding
back.
The curly haired detective took a deep
breath and blurted it out. “I think
Walters has been buried where the parking garage is going to be built on the
new City Hall site.”
“Why?”
“Just a feeling. Not all the foundation has been poured yet and
it would be the easiest place to bury a body with no one ever finding it –
yet simple enough for a drunken murderer to figure it out.”
“Starsky don’t you think you’re jumping
the gun here?” Hutch broke in to try
to talk some sense into his partner before the figure behind the desk burst
into a large pile of black cinders.
“Starsky! You’re telling me that you’re investigating
this as a possible murder with
no body, no motive, no weapons, oh but you have a theory that the alleged murderer was drunk!” Dobey stood up and
rested his hands on the top of his desk, supporting his massive weight. “I want you to take the rest of the day off
and think about what your next
job will be if you don’t stop playing games and start using procedure!” He paused and calmed down a little. “The only good thing that’s come from this is
that Mrs. Walters called the Chief and congratulated him that he had such
open minded officers that think outside the box.”
“But Cap’n……”
A large forefinger pointed toward the
outer door. “Starsky, I mean it. Go. And
come back here tomorrow with something else to tell the Chief.”
Starsky slunk out the hallway door, while
Hutch sat still in his chair. Dobey
finally looked at the blonde. “Well?
What are you sitting there for? And
I don’t want to hear that you support your partner’s crazy idea?”
Hutch hesitated before answering. “Well….I think Starsky’s
on the right track about Walters being murdered.” Before Dobey could lose his temper more, Hutch
explained. “His gut instinct is telling
him that Walters is dead. You know
how dead-on Starsky’s instinct usually is.
And we’ve got a lot of circumstantial evidence and hearsay about Walters’
activities that suggest he met a foul end. I think it’s an avenue worth pursuing, that’s
why I didn’t refocus Starsky’s energies on this case.
Dobey looked at the seated detective,
thinking about what he said regarding Starsky’s instincts. Nodding briefly, he told Hutch to go after his
partner and take the rest of the day off with him.
The next morning Dobey called the duo
in the car while they were on their way in, and asked them to meet him at
the site of the new City Hall.
At the construction site, the workers
were being held outside the gate by police officers. The foreman made his irritation at the authorities
known and promised to place a call to the general contractor advising him
of the delay.
Hutch turned around, thrust his forefinger
towards the man and snapped, “You tell him to pray my partner’s wrong or this
whole site will be shut down and everyone on it considered a suspect.
He turned back towards his partner and the two found their way over
to Captain Dobey and a forensics crew.
“As much as I don’t want to find a dead
body here, you better not make me look like an imbecile Starsky.” Said Dobey as he met the approaching
detectives. “Now where do you
think this body will be found?”
Starsky turned in a circle, looking around
the massive construction site. “What’s
over there?” He pointed to a large
site where most of the heavy equipment sat. It appeared to be a second or third phase of
the City Hall project.
Dobey motioned for one of the other officers
bring him over the map he held. After
turning it several times, Hutch pointed out that it appeared to be where the
parking structure was going to go. Dobey
confirmed with the foreman that the parking garage was one of the last structures
to be built, but that the groundwork and measurements had been laid.
The construction firm was using the area to park their backhoes, cement
trucks and other machinery in the meantime.
“Let’s start there then.” Starsky said with authority. Dobey looked at Hutch who shrugged his shoulders
and followed his partner.
Included in the forensics team’s equipment
was a long, thin, plastic tube attached to a machine used to indicate hollow
spaces in soil and rocks, and for measuring pressure. It was created for mining purposes, but was
lately finding use in criminal forensics and paleontology. As the machine was set up, the man in charge
of using the equipment explained that they would insert slowly into the ground
in grid patterns.
“So you can’t actually tell if there’s
a body lying under the soil?” Asked the baffled Captain.
Why have these confounded machines
if they don’t work to our specifications?
“No,” answered the officer, but I can
tell if there’s an unnatural space in the soil, something that would indicate
a recent disturbance.”
“But what about the
all the construction going on? Couldn’t an ‘unnatural space’ be solved by that
explanation?”
“It’s doubtful. If something’s been placed in the soil, like
a body, there would still be spaces surrounding the body. Loose soil tends to settle after a few days,
creating no vacuum. So if the construction
site dug around here to test the soil and the stamina of the underlying rock,
then it would still show as a compressed area. On the other hand, if someone disturbed the
area and placed a body in it, the soil wouldn’t have compressed properly,
leaving room for the vacuum – or space.”
Starsky was anxious to get on with it.
“How long will this take?”
The officer in charge shrugged his shoulders.
“Depends. If we find what you’re looking for right away,
not long at all. Otherwise it can take
all day or tomorrow even to cover the entire grid.”
Watching the men slowly insert the tube
in various pre-marked areas over the packed earth proved boring, especially
for Starsky who hated the tedious aspect of his job. He slowly walked around the unbroken grounds
of the site – watching the waiting workman and other gawkers.
“Penny for your thoughts.” Came
a smooth voice from behind him.
“Huh?”
Starsky turned to see his partner at his left elbow.
“You, uh, looked miles away for a few
minutes. Wanna tell me what you were
thinking about?”
“Oh nothin’ in particular. Trying
to get a fix on Walters.”
“Change your mind?”
“Hmmm. No. He’s
buried here somewhere. I think the
undeveloped garage is the most likely place.”
At the end of the fourth hour of searching,
the forensics team was entering the third of five grids, moving in to the
middle of the search area. The officer
manning the machine abruptly called for Captain Dobey. “We’ve got something here Captain.”
The numbers on the printout meant nothing
to the Captain. “Okay, if you think
that shows promise.” Dobey turned to
the other officers standing nearby and ordered them to start digging. “Starsky!
The three men watched the four uniforms
dig slowly into the dirt following the directions of the forensics officer.
Within a short time they came across an object that wasn’t part of
the natural topography. The object wasn’t hard like a rock, but more
pliant. The forensics officer called
a halt to the digging and stepped low around the holes. Brushing aside the loose dirt he uncovered a
denim-clad arm.
The two detectives and their Captain didn’t
make it back to their precinct until early evening. There were people to notify, arrangements to
work out with the contractors, the coroner’s people to meet with, and the
Chief & Mayor to placate.
Hutch hung up the phone that had been
ringing on his desk when they came in. “That
was Mrs. Walters. I told her we would
send Rob’s body on once the autopsy was completed. Once we know when that will be I’m to call her
back to get the arrangements.” He picked
up a tan photo envelope on his desk and began looking at the pictures inside.
Starsky didn’t look up from the typewriter
where he was concentrating on writing his report without making it seem like
there was some ESP or such nonsense involved. The tip of his tongue was sticking out slightly
from between his thin lips. His thick
brows were furrowed together and Hutch thought he would surely give himself
a headache if he held his face in that manner much longer.
“Hey Starsk!” The call was repeated several times before the
brunette looked up from his desk.
“Huh?
What?! I’m trying to finish
this so I can go home and get some good rest before my hot date tomorrow with
Lauren.”
“I just got the photographs back from
the crime scene. What do you see?” Hutch handed the pictures to his partner.
The official crime scene photos showed
Rob Walters lying on his back with his right arm lay over his face as if to
ward something off. His ankles were
crossed, and the left arm was at his side slightly bent. The only evidence of violence on the body was
a small bullet wound in the upper left chest.
The blood soaked area indicated the victim had been shot while still
alive. The other photo was a picture
of the victim's backside, taken after the body had been removed from its burial
place. A large, bloody contusion was
apparent on the back of the skull and the exit wound of the bullet was also
visible.
Starsky turned the photographs around
in his hands, viewing it from different points.
“The bullet entry looks weird in comparison to the exit wound.”
“I thought so too, but I guess we’ll have
to wait until the coroner’s report to see what he says.”
Studying it for a few more moments, Starsky
scrunched up his face deep in thought. “Hutch?
You know what?”
“What?”
“I’ll bet he was shot AFTER he was buried.”
“But Starsk, there’s a thick layer of
blood seeped into the shirt, that would mean that…..”
“The murderer buried him alive.”
Until they could solve this, there would
be little time off for the two detectives, so Starsky made sure his date with
Lauren that evening was an early one. As
pre-arranged he picked up his partner in the morning before work. Surprisingly his partner wasn’t out in front
waiting for him, for as usual Starsky was a little late. It took a couple of honks on the horn before
the blonde came out of his building, looking a little more worn.
“Hey what’s with you
buddy? I was the one with
the hot date last night, and you’re the one who looks it.”
“I kept thinking about Mrs. Walters last
night and how disillusioned she’s going be when all the crap about her son
comes out. I hate to see any mother
hurt like that.”
“Yeah I know what you mean. Kinda like what my Ma went through when Nicky
got into all that trouble.”
“The little piss-ant lied to her about
coming home for the holidays, of all things.”
“Calm down Hutch. He’s the victim here, remember?”
Hutch ran his fingers through his blonde
hair to give it some semblance of order. “Yeah,
well that doesn’t mean I’ve gotta like him, or feel sorry for him.”
“You mean it doesn’t bother you that he
was murdered?” Starsky asked aghast
at his partner’s nonchalance, which was so unlike him.
“No, it’s not like that. I’m not glad he’s been murdered, but I can’t
help not be happy that a sleazy guy like that’s off the streets.”
“Same here buddy, same here.” Starsky pulled the
First checking their mailbox and then
with Dobey the two detectives made their way down to the morgue to see if
Chamberlin had finished with the initial autopsy on Rob Walters.
“Boy what an interesting case you guys
brought me yesterday. Definitely need
the criminology training for this one.” Greeted the coroner as he shook his head at the two detectives.
“You got anything for us yet?” Asked Starsky as he began
to pick-up various pathology paraphernalia.
“Starsky why is it that every time you
come down here you have to play with my stuff?”
Hutch walked over to this partner and
removed the antique saw from his hands and put it back on the shelf along
the wall of Chamberlin’s office. Asking the coroner at the same time to expand on his greeting.
“Just that. Let me show you.” The man took the two detectives back into the
refrigeration room where bodies waiting for autopsies, identification, or
pick up were placed. Opening drawer
5D, he slid out the tray and undraped Walters’ body.
Grabbing gloves, he indicated that the two detectives should put some
on also.
Chamberlin pointed to the small dark entry
wound, just below the lower clavicle on the left side of the chest. “As you can see here is where the bullet entered.”
Turning the body over with some help, he pointed to the exit wound
which was two inches higher on the back and unlike normal exit wounds.
This one was simple and unragged. “The
angle of the wounds indicate that the victim was lying down
on his back at the time he was shot. Judging
by the amount of dust particles in his mouth, sinuses, and lungs I would say
this man was buried first and then the murderer shot the victim through the
dirt. The pathway the bullet made showed
significant amounts of dirt in it.”
“What was the actual cause of death?”
Asked Hutch.
“First off, I’d say shock. But I can’t confirm that yet. Without any kind of treatment, the head wound
would’ve been sufficient enough to kill him.
It’s my guess that he was clubbed unconscious first, then
buried, and for good measure the murderer shot a bullet into the grave after
he was done burying him, hoping to make a hit.
The way his arm was up over his face when the body was found, he probably
made his way back to consciousness briefly. Between the blood loss, brain swelling, and
suffocation, death didn’t take long.”
The two blue eyes looked up from across
the table to look at each other. Just like we thought.
“When do you think you’ll have the tox
ready?”
“Several days.”
“Judging by the smell emanating from the
clothes, this guy was way beyond the legal limit of alcohol. I could smell that over the decay.”
Hutch was still thinking about Mrs. Walters.
“When will the body be released to the next of kin?”
“After the initial tox screen comes back
tomorrow. I want to see if there’s
anything else we need to look for once I see that.”
The detectives looked briefly over the
rest of the body for any other signs of violence – bruising, broken bones,
needle marks. Except for some scrapes
which could be explained by a fall taken after being knocked out, there was
no other evidence of abuse – self inflicted or otherwise.
Walking away, but leaving the gloves on,
the detectives waited until Chamberlin closed the drawer back up. “Where’s his effects?”
In a warmer room full of cabinets, Chamberlin
brought out a large clear bag filled with the items found in and around Rob
Walters’ body. Dumping it out on a
table, the two went through various items:
Bloody and dirty clothes, worn expensive leather loafers, a wallet
– emptied except for a picture of Anna, two
“Might as well.”
The two turned back to Chamberlin. “Any prints?”
“Quite a few on the cards, but that was
to be expected. The only ones on the
wallet and the keys were his. Body
and clothing had no prints or hair.”
Sighing
the partners removed their gloves, tossing them into the garbage can next
to the exit door. They told Chamberlin
they were going to appropriate the deck of cards as it could possibly play
a role in the investigation. “Let us
know what you find on the tox.” Starsky asked the coroner as they made their
way out.
“So where do you think we should go next
partner?” Hutch put his hand on Starsky’s
shoulder, giving him reign on their next move.
“Let’s get a pro’s opinion of these cards
and if they turn out dirty, then I think we need to dig more into the backgrounds
of our friendly little poker circle.”
“Huggy should be able to put us in touch
with someone.”
“Blondie you’re gonna make detective yet.”
Starsky smirked at partner.
As they’d known he would, Huggy had just
the person for them to talk about the cards. He put them in touch with ‘Magic Mike’; a throwback
to an earlier age when men who made their living off card games were viewed
as romantic rogues.
Mike looked at the cards a long while
with gloved hands and assured the detectives that the deck was indeed marked.
And the markings were very inconspicuous.
They were the type of cards that only professionals used, and very
expensive. He pointed out where the markings were and how
one would use them. Sure they were
on the right track now, the detectives thanked him and left with a focus on
getting warrants from the D.A. to search the vehicles and residences of the
people involved in the last poker game of Rob Walters’ life.
With progress being made on this highly
political case, the D.A. was more than happy to get warrants issued for that
afternoon. The two knew they couldn’t
hit all three the same day so they gave the sets of warrants to three factions
of uniformed officers. They wanted
to meet with Mrs. Walters and Anna when their plane arrived later in the day
to prepare them for the upcoming investigation, and hopefully, trial.
None of the three men were happy about
their privacy being invaded and were concerned about what the warrants meant
for them personally. But all three
obeyed without too much indignation. The
officers promised to have their reports to Captain Dobey by the next morning.
After meeting their plane Starsky and
Hutch took the ladies to the same five-star hotel. Even though both were grieving, there was a strength about Mrs. Walters that both detectives could not
help but admire. Wondering how to gently
turn the conversation to the disreputable character of son and fiancée, they
were amazed when Mrs. Walters asked straight out about the investigation and
where it was going. Starsky explained
to the women that there were three possible suspects the department was investigating.
When Mrs. Walters asked why her son was murdered, the two detectives
gently tried to tell the ladies about ‘Bobby’s’ propensity for gambling, fighting,
drinking, and cheating. It was the cheating angle they were looking
at more closely.
They were reluctant to divulge to the
ladies the seamier side to Walters’ life, hoping they wouldn’t have to find
out about most of that. Starsky &
Hutch hated to dispel the ladies’ image of their ‘Bobby’,
but felt it was better to hear it now
from sympathetic individuals rather than in the impersonal setting of a courtroom.
The only outward signs the ladies’ showed
about having their vision of their loved one tarnished was in their eyes.
Anna gently dabbed them to capture the moisture gathering there.
Mrs. Walters, on the other hand, was steely-eyed; her mouth set firm. “Well if you gentleman will excuse us, we have
to unpack and rest after our flight.” Mrs.
Walters said as a dismissal, leaving the detectives to let themselves out.
Anna however, wouldn’t let her disappointment overshadow her upbringing,
and escorted Starsky and Hutch to the door of the suite.
“However much trouble Bobby got into here – he was always a gentleman
of the finest degree at home. I wish
he’d never left
The next morning when Starsky & Hutch
arrived at their desks four reports were awaiting them. The three searches on Charlie Conover, Mark
Stanley, and Jack Caswell, and the ballistics report on the bullet pulled
from Walters’ body.
They each picked up a file and silently
sat down at the desks, reading the simple reports. Starsky picked up the ballistics report, which
showed that the bullet came from a Smith & Wesson 317 snub-nosed revolver.
Judging by the rust particles on the bullet, the gun was not well taken
care of. Tossing it onto his partner’s desk, he grabbed
Jack Caswell’s file. Jack Caswell’s
search yielded some minor collisions with the police for brawling, including
one resisting arrest and a conviction for possession of a concealed weapon.
Meanwhile Hutch read the report on Charlie
Conover, who came back clean. He had
worked in the construction business for over 20 years. Other than a few minor traffic tickets he had
no trouble with the law. The search
of his home and car yielded nothing of interest or importance to the case. Figuring any further exploration into Charlie’s
background would be a waste of time; Hutch took a look at the report on Mark
Stanley. “Hey, what do we have here?”
He said reading setting the file on his desk and leaning forward to
read intently. “Looks like Mr. Stanley owns
a gun. A small snub-nose
Smith & Wesson. The investigating
officers found it under a loose floorboard in the bedroom. And he has a tendency toward violence when drinking.
He’s been arrested numerous times.”
Starsky looked up from the files he was
reading, the mention of one of the suspects having a small Smith & Wesson
grabbing his attention. “Did you read
the ballistics on the bullet yet?”
“No, you got it?”
“It’s right here.” Starsky tossed over the folder that was sitting
on the far front of his partner’s desk. “I
think we should switch files.” He set
the file on Caswell down and grabbed the one on
“Let’s get warrants for his bank accounts
and start talking with neighbors and family. See if he ever mentioned Walters or has any
history of making threats.”
Several days later the two had quite an
impressive file on Mark Stanley. He
was one of the last ones to see Walters alive, other than the murderer. His gun was the right make and model as the
murder weapon – though the ballistics report was still out since the weapon
was in poor shape. Several drinking
companions had heard
The information they had gathered was
enough to bring Mark in for questioning. Mrs.
Walters was still in town because the body had just been released to her the
previous day, then she had it shipped back to
Mark Stanley was not a happy camper.
He didn’t like the idea of missing a ½ day of work, much less the questioning. He made his discontent known to the blonde detective
who played the good cop, with Starsky in the background, scowling and playing
the intimidating bad cop.
Hutch confirmed with Mark that he owned
a small Smith & Wesson 25 caliber weapon, but he protested that he hadn’t
used it in years. When asked where
it was, he said he put it under the floorboard in his bedroom so his kids
wouldn’t find it when they were staying over.
He reluctantly confessed that he had made rash statements about Rob
Walters’, but that was ‘cause he was cheating – everyone.
He never actually threatened him except a few times when he had too
much to drink.
“Hey look the man was a cheat. He was cheating at cards; I heard he was doing
some running for Big Carl and cheating him too.”
“So why’d you continue to join in his
poker games?”
“’Cause I wanted to
catch him at it. But
he was good, never could do that.”
They went over the statement that
They kept Mark Stanley in the interrogation
room for almost an hour. Once he asked
to call an attorney, but Hutch assured him it wasn’t necessary – he wasn’t
under arrest, they just wanted to talk to him.
Not getting very far and with little to
hold the man on, Starsky and Hutch felt very frustrated. The two detectives left their suspect in the
room with a uniformed officer standing guard, and went into the adjoining
room to talk with their Captain about the proceedings. “Cap’n, once we get the ballistics report on
the gun found in
“That man did not kill my son.” Mrs. Walters declared with authority.
Hutch turned to the woman using great
patience, as one would with a child who didn’t understand why he couldn’t
touch the stove. “Pardon me, Mrs. Walters,
but this is a police matter and we know what to look for. We’ve investigated many a suspect and can tell
if they’re hiding something.” He turned
back to the Captain. “I think he knows
something about Walters’ death.”
“I know what I’m feeling, and there’s
nothing about that man that speaks of evil to me.” The high-born woman stated again, quite clearly.
“I happen to agree with Mrs. Walters.”
That quiet declaration, from the corner by the doorway, came from the
other detective.
Hutch turned to his partner in amazement;
light blue eyes widened. “What?! And what makes
you think that?”
“I dunno; just a feeling.”
“A feeling! Do you know what a prosecutor would do with
your ‘feelings’ Starsky?” Shouted an exasperated Dobey.
“And do you know how many cases are lost
cause a cop didn’t follow his gut instinct!” Shouted the dark-haired man. “I think we need to release
Dobey crossed his arms over his expansive
chest. “So you want me to go back to
the Chief and tell him we had a perfectly viable suspect, but because one
of my detective’s impressions with the suspect didn’t feel right,
we backed off?! Starsky, I didn’t get
to where I am now by being dumb!” He
turned to Mrs. Walters. “Don’t you
want to find out what happened to your son?”
“Of course. But I agree with Detective Starsky, while you’re
running around trying to pin this on Mr. Stanley,” she waved her hand at the
window, “my son’s killer is out there going unpunished.”
Captain Dobey escorted Mrs. Walters from
the room and had the guard release Mark Stanley since they had nothing to
hold him on. He told his detectives
that he wanted to see them in his office as soon as he got back.
As they slowly walked to the squad room,
not in any hurry to be yelled at by their superior, they reviewed the notes
of the interrogation of Mark Stanley. “I
guess we’ll just have to wait for the ballistics report to see if
When they arrived at the squad room, the
initial ballistics report was ready. Almost
immediately the technician determined that the weapon found at Mark Stanley’s
residence probably wasn’t the murder weapon. It took quite a bit of cleaning in order to
get the gun to work properly. Even
then, with several rounds fired, the trigger stuck occasionally.
Captain Dobey had entered his office via
the door in the hallway. “Get in here!”
He shouted to his two rogue detectives.
“What was that all about Starsky!” He shouted
before Starsky was able to kick the door closed with his sneaker-clad foot.
“You’re making the Bay City Police Department look like idiots, not
to mention your superior – namely me – look like a fool! I can just see the Chief’s face when word gets
back to him that one of my best detective’s is writing off a suspect even
before all the evidence’s in!” Dobey
was angry, no doubt about that. But
Starsky knew he’d just rant and rave without making them pay the price for
his embarrassment if they could
find proof that
Hutch tossed a manila folder on his captain’s
large oak desk. “Read this.
I think that should provide enough proof.”
The large captain read the preliminary
ballistics report. “This doesn’t prove
anything. You know that as well as
I. Just because it’s doubtful that this particular
gun was the murder weapon, doesn’t mean that
“But it doesn’t prove he did either, Cap’n.
And we don’t have enough evidence to hold him on.
Nothing the D.A. could use for a trial.”
“Well then I suggest you get your butts
moving and find something to give
to the D.A. The Governor’s called the
Mayor several times to get the status of this investigation.”
“I still think that the poker game at
The Sportsman has something to do with Walters’ killing.” Starsky said, his gaze
directed in front of him, lost in thought.
“It has to be someone with access to the
construction site also.”
Dark blue eyes widened in excitement.
“That’s it! Caswell. He’s gotta be the connection. He was at the poker game, he was also upset
about losing money to Walters also, and being crew boss, he would probably
have a key to the gate of the site.” Starsky
smacks his palm against his forehead. “Why didn’t I think about that in the first place?!”
“Hey buddy. I’m supposed to be the brains, remember? I should’ve thought of it.”
Starsky slapped his partner’s shoulder.
“Don’t worry about it Blintz. That’s
what I’m here for. To pick up the slack when
you fall down on the job.” His
face lit into a million-dollar grin as he semi-teased his partner. But Starsky had a point, whenever one of them
couldn’t seem to make the connections, the other usually did. That’s what made them such good partners and
friends.
“Don’t just stand there,
bring this other guy in for questioning!”
“Yes, sir, Cap’n sir.” The dark curls bobbed
as Starsky saluted his agreement.
As expected, the ballistics report on
the bullet pulled from Rob Walters’ body did not match the rusty weapon owned
by Mark Stanley. Consequently, the
investigation took several steps backward.
A couple of questions to the oversight
manager on the construction site confirmed that there was no guard posted
when workers vacated the site. Only
a large, padlocked gate kept thieves and riffraff away from the equipment. Several people had a copy of the key, and a
copy was always in the manager’s trailer.
Discussions with neighbors of Jack Caswell’s
indicated that he was a good neighbor. Quiet, helpful to the elderly
women who lived next door. His
family and acquaintances confirmed the same information, except they added
that when he drank, he could be riled easily; and that he usually ended up
on the wrong side of a fight. He had
been arrested a few times as a result of these fights, which the detectives
were already aware.
“Not much to go on, is there?” Hutch asked his partner.
“Sure not enough to provide a means, much
less a conviction.” Starsky was sullen,
he was sure Caswell was the key, his gut instinct was roiling.
“Still think Caswell had something to
do with it?” Starsky nodded, and the
determined look on his face convinced his partner and friend.
“Okay Gordo, let’s bring in Jack Caswell,
and have a little talk with him.”
The interrogation of Jack Caswell proved
very interesting. Again, Hutch took
the lead and played the good cop, while Starsky stayed back and occasionally
broke in with snarling remarks and intimidating looks.
The suspect was tense and edgy, explaining
that he’d never been through one of these before. That edginess led to some interesting divergences
from his previous statement.
For example, he originally told the officers
that it was Mark who suspected Rob was cheating during their semi-regular
poker games. Now, he told them that
he had suspected it for a while. They
almost always used Rob’s cards and when they didn’t Rob’s luck wasn’t like
it was when his cards were used. When
confronted with the original statement, Jack backtracked and said that Mark
Stanley mentioned it to him before he had a chance to say anything about his
suspicions to anyone else.
He also said originally that he walked
straight home after the poker game. But
now he mentioned that he walked back to the construction site just to check
it out to make sure everything was okay. He
only lived about seven blocks from the site and it was a habit of his, since
there was no guard during off hours.
Twenty-five minutes into the interrogation,
Caswell let slip that his walk took him nowhere near
“
Catching himself, Caswell explained nodded.
“Well, if Rob was on his way home that night, the killer probably got
him at his place, right?”
Neither detective said responded; blue
eyes crossed each other across the room.
Starsky turned away from the table and
left the room, closing the door behind him.
He went to speak with their Captain, who was again in the adjoining
viewing room.
“What you think Cap’n? Enough to hold him for a couple
of days while we try to find more evidence?”
With a large forefinger pointing toward
the detective, Dobey made himself clear. “Twenty-four hours Starsky. That’s all you’ve got without anything to charge
him on.”
The dark-haired detective went back to
the interrogation room, stuck his head in and tilted it to signify he wanted
his lighter-haired partner to step out for a moment. Once in the hallway, Starsky explained to Hutch
how they had 24 hours to find more evidence if they wanted to hold Caswell
on something.
The timeframe did not make either detective
happy. Twenty-four hours wasn’t enough
time to track down information most times, much less find enough to make their
Captain, the Chief, and the D.A. happy.
“Damn it Starsky we don’t have anything
else. Nowhere else
to look either. If Caswell killed
Walters, he had to’ve dumped the murder weapon.
If we could find that….”
Starsky placed his hand on his partner’s
shoulders. “I know Hutch. We just won’t get any rest for the next 24 hours.”
The next few hours proved nothing more
than frustrating for the two. They
checked with all their snitches to see if a hit had been out on Rob Walters,
thinking of the Big Carl connection. They
checked with evidence to see if any guns had been turned in the last two weeks
that matched the type of Smith & Wesson that the deadly bullet came from. They also drove to Rockton to see if they could
find any witnesses or if anyone recognized Caswell.
Both were frustrated, but Starsky showed
it outwardly. Banging his first on
the steering wheel of the
“I know buddy, I know.” The car fell silent as the two continued their
rounds.
Burning the
Making their way back
to the squad room around
“Hey Starsky, Hutchinson! I
think I may have something for you.” The
short dishwater blonde was waving a set of papers over his head to catch their
attention.
“
“I think I got something for you here.
I’m having ballistics and the lab check it out.
Hutch opened the double doors to the squad
room, “Let’s go in here and talk.” The
squad room was nearly empty with a shift change happening soon. Hutch made a fresh pot of coffee while Starsky
indicated with a wave of his hand that Sgt. Lowell should have a seat in one
of the chairs next to their desks.
“What’cha got John?” Starsky sat down on his desk, feet planted on
the seat of his chair.
“You know how you asked Crofton yesterday
to check into any reports of any Smith & Wesson snub-nosed guns being
turned in?” Both detectives nodded
silently. “Well, we got one. Apparently a mother and her son found this gun
down at the bay, buried in the sand. They
turned it into the police and it made it’s way here
a couple of days ago. I’ve got ballistics
comparing the bullet with the markings on the gun, and the lab checking to
see if they can pull any prints off it.”
Starsky grabbed the papers from his hand.
“Excellent. How long do you think it’ll take for those reports
to come in? We don’t have much time
left before they’re gonna release our suspect.”
“I’m hoping ballistics will come up with
something soon. Prints might take several
days. Only because there’s no telling
how many sets are on the weapon. I
told them to drop the reports off to you guys.”
“Damn, that’s not soon enough if we want
to keep Caswell in custody.” Starsky
dropped the papers on his desk.
Hutch turned around and tapped his finger
on the desk. “John,
what about the serial number on the gun?
Are you having that checked?”
“Yeah, but I’m not sure that’ll come back
soon enough either.”
“But we’ve got a better chance at getting
that back before
“How zat?”
“Why would it be buried in the sand down
by the bay? Unless
he had a reason to dispose of it. Of
course, all of this is contingent on the fact that he registered the gun properly,
also.” Hutch laid his large hand on
the short man’s shoulder. “Thanks
“I think we should put the order through
to detain Caswell further, before Dobey gets here. We can explain it to him when he comes in.
Hopefully by that time we’ll have something more concrete.”
Lowell and Hutch walked to the double
doors, the blonde thanking the other man again, while Starsky placed a call
down to Holding. By this time the two
were extremely tired and hungry from the rush of the last 22 hours, but too
keyed up to rest.
At 11:10 the phone on Hutch’s desk finally
rang. “Hutchinson.” He answered short and quick.
A tinny voice came from the earpiece of
the receiver. “Hey Hutch, it’s Marty
down in Records. I think I got a match
on that gun Sgt. Lowell said you wanted run.”
“What’cha got?”
“Either this guy is the dumbest criminal
or a careless owner for letting it get stolen.”
“What you mean?” Hutch holds up his hand to ward off questions
from his antsy partner.
“Well the serial number was clear as day.
And it was registered properly.” Marty whistled. “That’s how most criminals are caught you know?
Because they rush everything else – like disposal of the body – that
they forget the minor things, like filing off a serial number.”
“MARTY!” The blonde was ready to reach into the phone
and grab the other man by his neck.
“Huh?
Oh yeah. The registered owner
of the Smith & Wesson 317 found on the beach is a Jonathan Caswell of
1218 Front Street.”
Raising his large thumb
upward at his partner, Hutch’s face split into a big grin. “Thanks Marty.” He replaced the receiver down and bent over
his desk, hands on the top. “We got
him babe. Call downstairs and tell
them the paperwork will be there momentarily.
I’ll inform Dobey first and get started on it.”
The curls on the brunette detective bounced
as he jumped off his chair with adrenaline.
Once the paperwork for keeping Caswell
in custody for another 72 hours was delivered, Captain Dobey gave the two
the rest of the day off.
Tag
The next day, the lab report on the gun
came back. They were able to lift the
edge of a fingertip and thumb from the trigger and the barrel. The small imprints matched Caswell’s upper pattern.
With more information on the working and
personal relationship between Jack Caswell and Rob Walters, and the lab report
on the prints, both Starsky and Hutch felt they had enough to present to the
D.A. to recommend a grand jury investigation and, hopefully from there an
indictment. Presenting the report to
the Offices of the District Attorney with flair, they left the Justice Center
in a good mood.
Bounding out the door, the two detectives
walked back to Parker Center, which was two blocks away. The sun was shining, their eyes were twinkling
with the productive end of a case, neither had been roughed up physically,
and their Captain was in a jovial mood.
Starsk stretched out like a lazy cat in
the bright sun, his arms flinging backwards, and then going to his stomach.
“I’m hungry.”
Light blue eyes peered at him from behind
titled sunglasses. “And what else is
new?”
“I want to celebrate – let’s go somewhere
different.”
“You mean no tacos, no burgers?”
Starsky nodded.
“I think I’m gonna enjoy this. Too bad I don’t have a tape recorder.” Hutch grinned broadly as he anticipated an enjoyable,
healthy lunch for once.
Turning around and walking backward while
talking to his partner, Starsky wasn’t aware of the dirty looks the oncoming
pedestrians were giving him. “Hey how about that new fast pizza place? Pizza Top or somethin’?”
“Pizza?! I thought you wanted something different.”
“For lunch yeah. We always have burgers or hot dogs or something.
We usually eat pizza for dinner.”
The blonde was disappointed and showed
it. “I thought you wanted something
different.” He repeated grumpily.
“What’d ya think I meant? California Salads or Red Lobster?”
“Yes, actually I did!” Hutch barked back. “Why do we always have to get what you want?”
“Hey Buddy, whose brains was it that solved
this case? Whose intuition? Because of me, Dobey’s
off our back, the Chief’s off Dobey’s back, and so on. And I’ll bet the Governor’s happy with my brains
too.”
Hutch began walking faster, Starsky’s
feet unable to keep up the backward jaunt at that pace. Just as he passed his partner, still facing
him, Hutch leaned out an arm and lightly pushed him sideways, knocking Starsky
into a set of garbage cans in the alley next to him.
“What happened to your ‘intuition’ Gordo?
Didn’t you sense that coming?” Hutch
laughed at his partner as he struggled to gain his equilibrium.
“You want junk for lunch – there ya go Bucko!” And the blonde began to jog back to the precinct
before the brunette detective could get his feet under him.
