From: HILLEMANN@MACALSTR.EDU
Date: Wed, 26 Apr 1995 19:34:27 -0500 (CDT)
Subject: "Partners"  (Part 5)
Message-Id: <01HPSZ5YYUG2AL39LX@MACALSTR.EDU>

"Partners"  (Part 5)
By Beth Hillemann


They parked in a lot next to the city courthouse, a large modern building of
white stone.  Sam tagged along with Hutch, curious about the proceedings.  At
the hearing everything went as expected and the suspect was bound over for
trial.  As Sam and Hutch headed out of the building, their shift at an end, Sam
brought up the topic of dinner.  Hutch was mentioning a place that Sam might
like to try when he broke off at the sight of a man leaving an office further
up the hallway.

Sam turned his head to see what Hutch was finding so interesting.  He saw an
impeccably dressed middle-aged man with light brown hair and very light grey
eyes.  "Why, Detective Hutchinson!" the man called out in a tenor voice.  "How
nice to see you again."

Beside him Sam felt Hutch stiffen, and he tensed, not understanding the
situation.  In a very cool voice Hutch acknowledged the greeting.  "Cameron."

The man called Cameron smiled gently and moved down the hallway to Hutch.  He
was accompanied by a short man with dark hair and a nervous manner, and by two
large men with the look of professional bodyguards.  "I was so sorry to read
about your partner," Cameron said.  "I was thinking of sending a card but,
well, Theo here thought it wouldn't have been in the best taste, under the
circumstances."  Cameron sighed.  "How are you getting along, my dear Hutch?"

"Better as soon as we bring you down, Cameron," Hutch answered shortly.

"Always so polite," Cameron murmured.  He looked inquisitively at Sam.  "And
who do we have here?"

"Mike Jennings," Hutch said briefly.  He turned to Sam and said, "This is
Vernon Cameron, Mike.  A sleazy two-bit drug dealer."  He smiled at Cameron,
with no humor.

Beside Cameron, the nervous man stirred, as if to object, but Cameron silenced
him with a gesture.

"Not 'sleazy'," Cameron corrected, holding out a hand to Sam.  "And definitely
_not_ 'two-bit'.  How do you do Mr. Jennings."  Sam took the hand and mumured
something indistinguishable.

"Last I heard you were having some difficulties with your 'clients' back east
Cameron," Hutch said.

A beaming smile spread across Cameron's face.  "All taken care of, my dear
boy. Merely a slight misunderstanding.  Well, well," he continued, surveying
Sam, "are you by any chance his new partner?"

Sam nodded, guardedly.

"Hmmm, beter looking than the other one, don't you think?" Cameron asked at
large.  "And better manners too, no doubt.  How lovely.  Perhaps the loss was
your gain after all, my dear Hutch."

Hutch's jaw clenched with an almost audible snap, and his expression changed to
such fierce antagonism that Sam reached out an arm to restrain him, although
Hutch hadn't moved.  The suave man merely looked slightly bewildered.  "My dear
Detective Hutchinson I assure you I meant no disrespect. How can the truth be
disrespectful?  I'm just trying to find something good for you in this
situation."

The fierceness dimmed in Hutch, like a light reaching the end of its power. 
"Get the hell out of my sight, Cameron," he said in a tired voice.

Cameron studied Hutch, then signaled for his men to precede him down the
hallway.  "Of course; I seem to be upsetting you.  Never let it be said that I
am insensitive!  I will remove myself and leave you to each other.  Good day." 
And with a last, charming smile, Cameron moved off in the wake of his men.

"What was that all about?" Sam asked Hutch.  But the other man was silent,
watching as Cameron and his party disappeared down the hallway.

"We're not on the best of terms," Hutch finally said distantly, his eyes bleak.
"He's...getting a lot of pleasure out of this."  He turned to Sam.  "Look," he
said, "I...uh...I have some things I have to do.  I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

"Yeah, sure," Sam said, but Hutch was already walking rapidly away.

"What was all of that about?" Al suddenly asked from behind Sam.  Sam jumped,
not expecting anyone to be there.  "Take it easy, Sam," Al advised, "it's just
me."  The hologram was dressed fairly conservatively today in a pink shirt,
dark slacks and white tie.  He was holding his ever-present cigar in one hand
and the handlink in the other.

"Al!" Sam said, glaring at him, "why do you do that to me?"  He started down
the hallway himself, heading for the exit to the courthouse.  Al fell into step
beside him.

"Do what?" Al asked innocently.  "It's not my fault you're not paying attention
when I come around."

Sam shot a look at Al, not caring if anyone noticed he was talking to thin air. 
"You take perverse delight in scaring me!" he accused.

Al shrugged.  "Well," he said, "I learned long ago to take my delights where I
can get them"  They arrived at the parking lot by the courthouse and Sam got
into his car, wondering what Hutch had done about transportation.  Al joined
him in the car.  "What's eating you, Sam?"

Sam sighed, then looked sideways at his friend.  "It's this whole situation,"
he confessed.  "I just don't know if I can do any good here."

"You're doing the best you can, Sam," Al comforted.

"It's not good enough," Sam insisted.  "There are things going on here that I
don't understand.  Linda says he couldn't possibly commit suicide, yet we know
he does in three days..."

"Two," Al interrupted mildly.

Sam sighed.  "Two days.  And meanwhile he's throwing himself into danger like
he's the last superhero in existence.  Which seems suicidal, but I don't think
it is."

"What danger?" Al asked suspiciously.  "What happened?"

Briefly, Sam told him about the grocery store.  Al's reaction surprised him. 
"Damnit Sam," Al said heatedly.  "I _told_ you to be careful!"

"Me?" Sam squeaked.  "It wasn't _me_ who was in any danger!  What's wrong with
you, Al?"

"I don't trust this guy, Sam," Al said.  "He's a loose cannon right now and he
could get you killed."

"He's more likely to get himself killed," Sam said, dispirited.  He stared at
the courthouse then suddenly pounded his hand on the steering wheel in front of
him in frustration.  "Damnit, Al.  Why couldn't God, Time, Fate or whatever
have put me here three weeks ago?  He doesn't need me now--what he _needs_ is
his partner."

"Well, he doesn't _have_ his partner anymore," Al replied harshly.

Sam stared at Al, startled by his vehemence.  Any hasty words he was about to
say died on his lips when he took a good look at his friend.  "What's going on
Al?  You were on edge last night--and now this.  What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," Al denied, but he fixed his eyes on the handlink.

Sam considered his partner, and the answer came to him.  "You think he was
responsible for what happened, don't you Al?" he asked in a voice compounded of
comprehension and disbelief.

Al still didn't look at him.  "I don't know," he muttered.

"Al, he was locked in a room!"

"He wasn't there when his partner needed him," Al said curtly, turning back to
Sam.

"_It wasn't his fault!_" Sam said fiercely.

"I know!" Al agreed, surprising Sam.  He rubbed at his forehead.  "I know
that," he repeated more quietly.

"Al," Sam reached for his friend, his expression wistful.  "I need your help. 
I like this guy; he's a good man.  I don't want anything to happen to him and
I'm afraid something will.  Please help me to keep him safe?"

As Al met Sam's gaze some of the tension went out of him.  "All right,kid," he
said, his eyes softening.  "I'll trust your instincts, any day.  What can I
do?"

Sam nodded, and smiled at his friend.  "I was wondering," he said, "do you know
where that asylum is located?"

"Yeah, sure--why?" Al asked, surprised.

"Because I want to go out there.  Now."

***

"What's the point of this, Sam?" Al asked, not for the first time, as they
arrived at the old Ashton Asylum.  They were out quite far from the city--it
would be another 5 years before the suburbs began expanding into this country. 
The man and hologram walked to the large brick building that was the old
asylum.  It was built in the shape of a long rectange, rising to three stories,
with the entrance in the middle after a flight of entry steps.  Some of the
windows, of assorted shapes, were boarded up, others were broken.  Trash was
caught in the overgrown shrubbery along the front of the building, adding to
the neglected feel of the place.  "This is creepy," Al commented, looking
around.

"I'm not sure, Al," Sam said, answering his first question.  "I just wanted to
get a look at this place.  Maybe we'll find something that'll help."  Sam's
voice trailed off as he gently pushed open the sagging front door.

"I don't think it's such a good idea to go in there Sam," Al said, hanging
back.

Sam ignored him and went inside.  Al hesitated, grimacing, then poked at the
buttons on the handlink and joined his friend inside.  The interior was gloomy,
the only light coming from the few windows still unboarded and the open front
door.

"Where was the room Hutch was in?" Sam asked.

"On the second floor, to your right," Al replied.  He followed Sam through a
door leading to a hallway and staircase.  Sam glanced into rooms as they
passed, many still containing assorted pieces of furniture.

"What do you know about this place, Al?" he asked.  "How long has it been
abandoned?"  He started up the staircase.

Al consulted the handlink.  'It was first a private asylum, built in 1909 by a
guy named Ashton.  It was taken over by the state in 1930.  The state abandoned
it in 1965 and put the property up for sale some years later, but no buyers
until...uh 1980."  Al was quiet for a moment, then murmured to himself,
"Ashton...Ashton Asylum..." as if he were trying to remember something.

"Which room was it?" Sam asked as they reached the top of the stairs.  Two
hallways stretched out before them, one running back along the length of the
building, the other leading to the right.  Al indicated the right hallway, then
pointed out the room to Sam as they rounded the corner.  It was a small room,
bare of any furniture, with only one small window.  Sam walked over to the
broken window and looked out.  The view was of the back of the property and the
ruins of the auxiliary building.  Sam peered down toward the ground and
shivered a little.

"Ashton Asylum," Al said in a voice of recognition.  "Now I remember!"

"What?"

"Oh, geez Sam," Al said urgently, "we've gotta get out of here--this place is
haunted!"  He headed back to the door, jerking his head for Sam to hurry up.

"What are you talking about?" Sam asked.

"I heard about this place.  It was on TV once--you remember that show 'Unsolved
Mysteries'...naw, you don't remember that, of course you don't.  But look, the
reported on this place, and it's haunted."

"Who haunts it?" Sam asked, smiling.

Al gave him an exasperated expression.  "Who do you think?  We're only standing
in an old asylum.  Who knows what happened here?"  He looked around nervously. 
"And," he added as his thoughts jogged his memory, "there was a cop who
committed suicide..." he trailed off, looking at Sam round-eyed.

"He's not going to do that," Sam said fiercely.  "And this place is _not_
haunted."

"_He_ might not be here," Al said, still looking worried, "but that doesn't
mean all those other ghosts aren't!"

Sam shook his head, sighing.  "Have Ziggy run a check on this place and its
'haunted legend'," he said, walking around the room to examine it.  "Maybe
there'll be something there for us.  And in any case you're a hologram,
remember?  No ghost can touch you so you can stop acting so...so..."

"So...so..what?" Al demanded, momentarily diverted.

"So terrified!" Sam said.  "Okay, now look.  Hutch was in this room, pinned by
gunfire..."  Sam's voice broke off as he checked out angles from the doorway.

"I am not terrified," Al muttered.

Sam ignored him.  "And the door closed..." Sam walked back to the door to look
at it.  "Hey, Al," he said suddenly, "look at this."

"I'm not terrified at all," Al was still muttering.  "Look at what?"

Sam was examining the hall side of the door, looking carefully at the bolt
lock.  "This lock, look how easy it is to slide."  He demonstrated to Al.

"So?"

Sam looked at him.  "So, it's been oiled.  What's a well-oiled bolt lock doing
in an abandoned building where everything else is falling to ruin?"

"Well..." Al paused, looking perplexed.

"Look," Sam continued, crossing the hall to another samll room, "look at this
one."  He tried the action on the bolt, and after some struggle managed to move
it, with loud protest from the bolt.  He looked meaningfully at Al.

Al looked from one lock to the other.  "So," he said, gesturing with the
handlink, "someone oiled that lock, expecting to use it."

"Maybe someone _planned_ to lock Hutch in here," Sam concluded.

"Or at least lock someone in.  Or maybe they just wanted to lock some_thing_
in.  So what, Sam?"

"I know it's flimsy," Sam began, "but listen, what if someone planned to bring
those two here, separate them, and kill one of them."

Al looked very skeptical.  "That's awfully complicated for something that's
really simple.  Why go to all that trouble when the guy could've just shot
them?  Why run the risk to lock up one, and then get the other and drag him
into that auxiliary building?"

"I just think there's some questions here," Sam said, starting off down the
hallway and back toward the stair.

Al followed along, pondering.  The handlink chirped at him, startling him so
much he almost dropped it.  He sighed in exasperationg and then punched at the
buttons to see what Ziggy wanted.  His expression changed as he read the data. 
"Hey, Sam," he said, catching up with Sam at the bottom of the stairs.  "There
was more to that story than I told you."

"Which story?" Sam asked, preoccupied.

"The _haunted_ one," Al said with unnecessary emphasis.  "Yeah, now I remember! 
That's what made it such an interesting feature on that show.  There was more
than one unsolved mystery associated with it."

"What?" Sam prompted, as Al fell silent, still peering at the handlink.

Al looked up at him.  "There was a body found here in 1993, when they were
finally starting to develop the property.  It was never identified.

"Was the cause of death determined?"

"Yeah, he'd been beat up and shot in the head.  They were figuring a robbery,
or a mob hit or something."

"When had he died?"

Al shrugged.  "The best they could figure was that the body had been buried
here for about 15-20 years.  There wasn't much left besides bones."

"15-20 years...so that was around the same time as Hutch and Starsky..."

"Yeah, that's the point they made in that show," Al interrupted excitedly. 
"Some people were speculating that maybe Hutch had killed this guy and _that_
was why he committed suicide."

"Where was the body found?"

"Uhh," Al took a moment to orient himself.  "Northeast corner," he said.  "Out
back."

The two men headed out through the back entrance to the main building.  Al,
dividing his attention between the handlink and the surroundings, located the
ground where the body was found, in a sheltered area beside the back entrance
steps.

"Do you suppose...it's here now?" Al asked somewhat nervously as Sam examined
the area.

Sam shook his head.  "No, I don't think..." he broke off, then continued in a
curiously restrained voice.  "Al, have Ziggy run a check on the body and cross
it with any records available on Starsky.

"What?" Al asked, staring at him.  "Why?"

"Just a hunch," Sam said.  "Humor me, okay?"

"Yeah, okay," Al agreed, and he fiddled with the handlink then said to the air,
"Gooshie, I want Ziggy to run a check..."

Sam turned to look across the back lot of the asylum, at the burned out shell
of the auxiliary building, thinking hard about oiled locks and bodies that were
conveniently blown to unidentifiable bits.

--End of Part 5--

Beth Hillemann
hillemann@macalstr.edu