Date: Mon, 24 Apr 1995 20:39:51 -0500 (CDT)
Subject: "Partners"  (Part 4 of 11)
Message-Id: <01HPQ8J3QQDKAL1O0E@MACALSTR.EDU>

"Partners"  (Part 4)
By Beth Hillemann


Day 2

The next morning Sam found Hutch already hard at work when he arrived in the
squad room.  Studying him for a moment, Sam thought he looked tired, but his
eyes weren't as bloodshot as the day before, and he seemed more animated.

"When did you arrive?" he asked Hutch, settling in at his desk.

Hutch looked up briefly from the files he'd been checking and waved a hand. 
"Oh," he said vaguely, "I woke up early and couldn't get back to sleep.  So I
thought I'd come in.  I've had an idea about the Bergner case..." and he
launched into detail about an ongoing murder investigation with Sam working
hard to keep up.  Trying to fit in a job he wasn't trained for was always one
of the most difficult aspects of leaping.  And on this leap Sam was worried he
wouldn't know what to do during a critical point (like a shootout).  The
morning, however, was mostly spent on the phone and digging in files, working
on a distressingly large number of cases.  Sam also found that as the new
person he was the object of attention around the station.  People stopped by to
say hello and ask how he was doing.  He realized after awhile, however, that
many of the people were also curious about Hutch.  Some out of concern, but
others out of the same sort of macabre interest that sends people to observe
disaster sights.

They went to meet Grace Keller in Sam's car (much to his relief), which had
been outfitted at the police garage with a siren and other appropriate
accoutrements.  Parson's Park was a small place, with a fountain, walkway and
playground for children.  Hutch headed for the fountain where a distinguished
-looking woman was waiting for them.

Sam was astonished by Grace Keller.  She was older than he had expected and
possessed all of the air and assurance of a leader of society.  She was dressed
in beautifully tailored light cream suit dress that set off her complexion. 
Bright dark eyes regarded the two men as they approached, and she languidly
waved away a grey-haired man dressed in a chauffeur's outfit.  He backed away a
few feet, leaving the three of them to privacy.

"Thank you for coming, Detective Hutchinson," the woman said.

"Hello, Grace," Hutch nodded, ignoring the slight look of displeasure at the
use of her first name.  "This is Mike Jennings, who's working with me," he
introduced Sam.

"How do you do Detective Jennings," Grace smiled at Sam.

Sam nodded and said, "Ma'am."

"Huggy said it was important, Grace," Hutch prompted.

Grace shrugged.  "To business then," she agreed.  She reached into the white
purse she was carrying and pulled out a large, wide gold bracelet.  Diamonds
glittered in the sun as she handed it to Hutch.  "Do you recognize this?"

Hutch examined the bracelet, then handed it over to Sam.  "Should I?"

"If it's the one I think it is it should match the description of the bracelet
taken about two months ago by the so-called 'Specialist'."

Sam looked carefully at the bracelet, trying to remember the description of the
items taken in a jewelry store robbery two months ago.  The 'Specialist', he
remembered, was the name of a thief who had been active for more than fifteen
years in California.  He was known for hitting jewelry stores, getting into
their safes and departing with any uncut stones.  In all those years he had
never taken anything else, except, occasionally, money.  Then recently there
had been a string of identical robberies in the city, but this time some of the
finished pieces had been taken as well.  And in the last robbery, a night
watchman had been killed.  "This does look like the bracelet taken from
Fordham's," Sam told Hutch.

"What do you have to say about this, Grace?" Hutch asked.

Grace nodded at the bracelet.  "One of my employees brought me that.  They
aren't supposed to accept expensive gifts from clients, you understand."  Hutch
looked skeptical and Grace smiled sweetly.  "Of course I recognized it.  I'm
not involved in anything like that, Detective Hutchinson, as you well know.  I
contacted Huggy so we could have a private talk about it."  She looked at Hutch
steadily.  "The word is that you're a straight person to deal with."

"Who gave the bracelet to one of your girls?"

Grace shook her head.  "You know I can't tell you that.  My business depends on
discretion."

"You have possession of stolen property; we could book you right now.  Your
'business' would be closed if we have to start investigating," Hutch warned.

"Of course," Grace said impatiently.  "Don't you think I understand that?  If
necesssary I will relocate.  But perhaps we can work together on this so that I
don't have to be involved and my business stays as it is."

Hutch considered her.  "What do you have in mind?" he asked finally.

"I cannot tell you who it is," she said.  "But if you wanted to put someone in
undercover at my place, that person might be able to discover his identity.  We
would have to agree, however, that no word about my involvement would come out. 
I would be as shocked as anyone that the police had put someone in my place of
business."

"It'd be a lot easier if you'd just tell us," Hutch said reasonably.

"I have my standards," Grace said with dignity.  "You may not agree with them,
but they are mine.  I don't finger my own clients."

"Why are you willing to help on this?" Sam asked.  "I mean why come to us with
this information in the first place?"

Grace hesitated, her eyes dwelling thoughtfully on the figure of her chauffeur. 
Finally, choosing her words with care, she replied, "Suffice it to say that I
have a great personal desire to stop the activities of the man who had that
bracelet."  She looked from Hutch to Sam and back.  "Are you willing to follow
my plan?"

Hutch nodded.  "Yes, if our Captain agrees.  We'll send someone to you this
afternoon."

"Thank you, gentlemen, I believe we have an agreement."  Grace nodded
graciously, then turned and walked in a stately manner to her waiting car.  The
chauffeur opened the door and helped her in.

Sam and Hutch turned toward their own vehicle, discussing the plan for
apprehending the jewel theif.  Sam suggested that Linda would be a good choice
for the undercover agent.  Hutch disagreed, vehemently.

"Why?" Sam asked, settling in behind the wheel.  "What's wrong with Linda?"

"She's not an undercover officer," Hutch said.  "She doesn't have enough
experience."

"Well how can she get experience if she isn't sent out on cases?" Sam asked
reasonably.

"We'll find someone else."

"She told me yesterday she's up for promotion.  Don't you think she's capable
of doing the job?"

There was a short silence.  "It's not that she's not capable..."

"Then what is it?"

"It could be dangerous," Hutch said.

Sam looked at him.  "_Everything_ in police work could be dangerous," he
pointed out.  "What she's doing right now could be dangerous.  Why don't we ask
her if she's willing to take the risk?  This is her dream."

Hutch sighed.  "All right," he agreed, reluctantly.  "We'll ask her."

When they located Linda at police headquarters, Hutch tried to sell the dangers
of the job first, to discourage Linda.  She, however, was ecstatic at the
opportunity and couldn't stop saying thank you to both of them.  Hutch gave it
up, shaking his head and smiling.  He offered to go to Captain Dobey first, to
convince him that Linda was the right person for the job.  Sam took Linda off
to the careteria for an early lunch, hoping to calm her down before Dobey
called for her.

Over sandwiches, chips and pop the two chatted like old friends, and Sam found
himself liking this young, ambitious policewoman very much.  She explained that
she grew up with three older brothers, so she learned to assert herself
early.  By the time they realized that several of their friends were interested
in their sister, and began taking a proprietary air with her, she was well able
to put them in their places and go out with whomever she pleased.  The family
sounded very close, and Sam thought wistfully of his own sister.

Gradually, Sam brought the conversation around to Hutch, and found the
opportunity to ask some of the questions he had been saving since the night
before.

"Suicide?" Linda exclaimed, loudly enough to turn some heads.  She looked
around, and lowered her voice.  "You've got to be kidding."

"That's what I'm worried about," Sam insisted.  "You said yourself he's
shutting himself off from his friends, and he's drinking too much..."

"I haven't noticed him drinking," Linda countered.  "And you haven't been here
long enough to know anything about that anyway.  Who've you been talking to?"

"Just some people," Sam said vaguely.

"Well you might be careful who you talk to.  There are some people around here
who don't like Hutch."

"One of them is a close friend," Sam said, thinking about Huggy.

Linda gazed at him, then sighed.  "I don't know about that," she admitted.  'I
know that whatever he's doing on his time off, it's not affecting his work." 
Even as she said the words, however, an arrested expression stole into her
eyes.

"What?" Sam asked.

"Well," LInda said slowly, "I did hear that he...he went in on an arrest
without any backup last week.  And it ended up a shootout."

"Not the wisest decision," Sam commented.

"No," Linda agreed, her eyes falling.

"He seems to have a lot of friends around here," Sam said, shaking his head. 
"They've been asking me about him because he won't talk about anything except
business."

Linda was looking at her hands, twisting her fingers nervously.  "He's always
been rather reticent about his feelings."  She gave Sam a wry smile.  "Macho
male types are pretty common around here, you know."  Then slowly she shook her
head, the smile dying.  "But this is different.  I used to be able to read him,
but now, ever since the funeral, I haven't been able to read _anything_.  He's
just...closed up."  Linda's concern was palpable to Sam.  "And I don't think
there's anyone close enough to break through to him now.  There was a woman
last year, Gillian.  She might have done it, but...she was murdered.  Starsky's
the one who pulled him through when Gillian died.  Who's going to pull him
through now?"

"Yet you're so sure he wouldn't commit suicide?" Sam asked softly.

She nodded her head, emphatically.  "I'm as positive of that as I am of
anything in my life," she said.

"Why?"

She gazed up at him, her hands stilled.  "Because of Starsky," she said
bluntly.

"What?"  Sam asked, not understanding.

"Because of Starsky," she repeated.  "Hutch knows what Starsky would think of
him killing himself.  He can't do anything for his partner now, but he can keep
faith with him.  Look, why do you think he's holding on to Starsky's car?  He
knows Starsky would want him to find the right person for it.  Friendship like
they had isn't bound by life and death," she said intensely.  "It's a
commitment of honor.  There's no way Hutch would commit suicide.  He's not
going to break faith when it's all he has left."

Sam was silent for a long time, thinking about what she had said, then a small
smile touched the corner of his mouth.  "Honor and faith," he said.  "That's
not something you hear a lot about these days."

"It's what we live our lives by," she said quietly.  "And what do you think he
was telling that kid about yesterday?"  Linda's gaze suddenly shifted to
something behind Sam, and a smile broke out on her face.  "Hutch," she called,
"what'd Captain Dobey say?"

Hutch walked over to the table and pulled up a chair to sit down.  "What else
could he say after I turned my persuasive charm on him?" he asked with a grin.

Linda shrieked and Hutch winced, but he threw a wink in Sam's direction.


That afternoon, Sam and Hutch were traveling again in Sam's car, on their way
to the city courthouse where Hutch was to testify in a preliminary hearing. 
They had left Linda in Captain Dobey's office, going over the plan for her
undercover employment at Grace Keller's establishment.  Hutch and Sam had both
wanted to be Linda's backup for the assignment, but Dobey decided to call in a
combined team of homicide and robbery detectives for the case.  As he was
driving, Sam was thinking that he was getting the hang of this police business
when suddenly the radio crackled at them with the call he had been dreading.

"All units in the vidinity of Lincoln and 73rd, a 211 in progress at George's
Grocery."

Hutch reached for the microphone.  "This is Zebra 3, we are in the vicinity and
responding to the 211."

Sam looked over at Hutch with some panic as Hutch reached for the flasher to
attach to the roof of the car.

"Go two blocks and take a right," Hutch told him, not knowing that there was
more to the panic than not knowing the neighborhood.  Sam nodded, flipped on
the siren, and floored the pedal.

When they were close to the store Hutch had Sam turn off the siren and he
removed the flasher.  They rolled to a quiet stop near the grocery store.  From
the outside everything was peaceful.  Sam and Hutch moved cautiously toward the
front of the store, Sam following Hutch's lead and drawing his gun.  George's
Grocery was a small old-fashioned neighborhood store.  On one side was a parking
lot, on the other a dry cleaning shop.  Hutch carefully maneuvered himself
around the corner of the front of the building and peered through one of the
large front windows.  He drew back immediately and moved closer to Sam around
the corner.

"Looks like two men, with guns and ski masks.  I can see a store clerk and a
couple of customers over to the far side.  You go around to the back entrace. 
I'll go in the front, as if I were a customer."

Sam nodded and hurried to the back of the building.  Adrenalin was kicking his
heart rate up to nearly choke him.  He had just rounded the corner when he
heard gunshots.  Sam raced to the service entrance door, praying it was
unlocked.  It was, and he dashed inside, trying to remember all the police
movies he had ever seen.  He found himself in a large storage area, with boxes
and crates of food and other supplies.  No one else was in the vicinity, so he
worked his way up to the main part of the store.  Cautiously, Sam went through
a curtain that separated the storage area from the rest of the store, his gun
at the ready.  He didn't see anyone, but he heard voices from the front of the
store, and among them he heard Hutch.  Sam hurried up an aisle of canned goods,
and peered around the corner to assess the situation.

"Hey Mike," Hutch called, catching sight of Sam.  "Cuff 'em for me, will you?" 
Hutch was standing with his gun trained on the two would-be robbers.  One was
on the floor with his hand clasped to his shoulder, the other was next to him,
his hands raised to the back of his head.  A store clerk and four customers
were milling around in the background.  Breathing a sigh of relief, Sam pulled
out his handcuffs and headed toward Hutch.

By this time the other police units had begun to arrive.  They came in to take
charge of the robbers while the few cutomers began talking and comparing
notes--interested observers of the whole affair, now that the shooting had
stopped.

"He was really something," one elderly man commented to Sam, nodding towards
Hutch who was talking to the store clerk.  "Coming in here with guns
blazing--just like in the movies!"  The man laughed and said it would give hm a
great story for the grandkids when they next visited.  Sam nodded, and agreed,
and waited until the business details had been taken care of and he and  Hutch
were walking back to his car.  Then he started yelling.

"Just what the hell was that?" Sam asked Hutch as they reached the car.

Hutch turned to him.  "What was what?" he asked, but there was a tell-tale
blush starting to rise.

"Going in there 'with guns blazing'.  Someone could have been killed!  Any of
the people in there--or you yourself!"

"No one was," Hutch objected.  "I knew what I was doing."

"We're supposed to be working together," Sam reminded him.  "You told me to go
in the back while you went in as a customer.  You didn't give me a chance to
even _get_ to the back door before opening up like Rambo."

"I acted as I read the situation," Hutch started to say, but Sam overrode him.

"What are you trying to do?" he asked furiously.  "Commit suicide?"  The words
were out before he could stop them, and they brought him up short.

"Of course not!" Hutch denied angrily.

"Then what?  You don't trust me to hold up my end?  Is that it?"

"It's not a matter of not trusting you," Hutch began, a certain weariness
entering his voice.

Sudden understanding flared in Sam's eyes.  "No," he agreed, his voice
softening, "it wasn't a matter of not trusting _me_.  You took on all the risks
in there because you don't trust _yourself_.  You were afraid of letting me
down, weren't you?"  There was a strained pause as their eyes met, then Hutch
looked away.  "What would you have done in that situation if I'd been Starsky?"
Sam asked deliberately.

Hutch's eyes jerked back to Sam's, their expression a combination of anger and
painful vulnerability.  Then he yanked open the car door, refusing to answer,
and got it.

Sam nodded to himself; he knew the answer.  And instead of going around to his
side of the car he crouched down beside Hutch.  "Listen," he said, "for better
or worse we're going to be partners now.  And that means sharing the dangers. 
It's not fair for one partner to take all the risks, while the other one stays
safe.  You know that's not what being partners is about."

Hutch closed his eyes.

Sam hesitated, then reached a hand out to lay it on Hutch's arm.  The muscles
were tight under his fingers.  "I know what you're blaming yourself for," he
said, treading carefully.  "But I don't blame you for what happened.  And," he
paused for a heartbeat," I don't believe Starsky would, either."  Sam waited,
holding his breath, wondering how hard he could push their fragile
relationship.

"No," Hutch finally said, very softly.  "That's the problem."  He let out a
long sigh.

_When it starts to give, push a little more_, Sam thought.  "Hutch, how do you
think I'd feel if you got killed while I was safe in the background?"

Hutch turned his head to look at him, and in that gaze Sam saw the despair
he had been living with for three weeks.  Sam kept his eyes up through sheer
force of will, and it was Hutch who broke the look, closing his eyes and
turning away.

"You're right," Hutch said in a quiet, tired voice.  He glanced at Sam.  "I'll
work on it, okay?" he asked, not offering any promises.

"Okay," Sam agreed, choosing to accept it as one anyway.

Hutch took in a deep breath and changed the subject.  "Isn't it about time we
went to the courthouse?"

Sam looked at him, not sure what, if anything, had been decided.  But he noded
and pulled himself up, saying, "Yeah, definitely."

It was as they were driving away from the grocery store that Hutch suddenly
said, "Mike?  Who's Rambo?"

--End of Part 4--

Beth Hillemann
hillemann@macalstr.edu