From: HILLEMANN@MACALSTR.EDU
Date: Thu, 27 Apr 1995 11:20:59 -0500 (CDT)
Subject: "Partners"  (Part 8)
Message-Id: <01HPTXRWCT3MAL3A3K@MACALSTR.EDU>

"Partners"  (Part 8)
By Beth Hillemann
 
 
At that time in the morning there were only a few people in the Rafters,
enjoying breakfast.  Huggy himself was there, however, and he greeted Sam and
Hutch with pleasure.
 
"Huggy," Hutch said, wasting no time, "who told you where Starsky and I could
find Evan Thorpe?"

"Umm, Hutch," Huggy looked uncomfortable, "you know I don't name names."
 
"It's important Huggy.  Mike's been looking at the case and it looks like we
were set up."
 
"Not by the dude who told me," Huggy said with conviction.
 
"Then maybe he was set up by someone else," Hutch said.  He watched as Huggy
hesitated.  "Huggy," he said with an ache in his voice, "they killed
_Starsky_."
 
Huggy looked up and met Hutch's gaze.  "Not 'he'," he sighed. "She.  Her
name's Rosa Martinez.  You can find her at the Strawberry Lounge."
 
"Thanks Huggy," Hutch said, squeezing his arm.  He and Sam headed back for the
car.
 
The Strawberry Lounge was closed at that time of the morning, but the barkeep
was there, stocking for the night.  With the aid of some presidents he was
persuaded to reveal Rosa Martinez' home address.  She was not at all pleased
to be wakened by the police.
 
"What do you want, cops?" she asked belligerently, as Hutch showed her his
badge.  She kept the chain on to keep them from coming into her apartment. 
She was a petite Chicana, with sparkling dark eyes and black hair that curled
wildly around her face.
 
"We need to talk to you Rosa," Hutch said.  "It's important."
 
"So is my sleep," she said.  "I gotta dance tonight."
 
"You'll be dancing in jail tonight if you don't cooperate," Hutch warned.
 
"On what charge?" she said angrily.  "I know my rights--you don't have nothin'
on me."
 
"Now look, Rosa," Hutch began, but Sam pushed him aside to talk to the woman
himself.
 
"Miss Martinez," he said in a friendly voice.  "Please.  All we want to do is
ask you a few questions.  It's very important.  I assure you it's nothing that
involves you in any trouble."
 
Rosa hesitated, but something in Sam's eyes told her he was telling the truth.
 
She sighed and detached the chain, allowing them into her apartment.
 
"Thank you," Sam said, smiling pleasantly.
 
Rosa narrowed her eyes at Hutch.  "Hey, I know you," she said. "You're, uhh,
Hutchinson, right?  Homicide."
 
"Yeah," Hutch said, surprised.
 
She nodded.  "You busted a girlfriend of mine once, for prostitution."  She
looked him over.  "She said you did right by her, though, and you took care of
that pimp that was hittin' her.  So maybe I owe you a favor. What do you
want?"
 
"A little over three weeks ago, my partner and I received a tip that Evan
Thorpe was hiding out at an asylum outside of town.  Was that you?"
 
She looked wary.  "Why?"
 
"It was a setup," Hutch told her.
 
"I didn't setup no cops!" she protested.
 
"Rosa," Sam interrupted.  "We know you didn't do it, but who told _you_ about
it?"
 
She was staring, lost in thought.  "My God," she said to herself. "That must
be what happened."
 
"What?" Hutch asked urgently.
 
She looked at him with round eyes.  "My friend, who told me about this.  Well,
he wasn't really a friend, just a guy I let hang around me now and then. 
Anyway, he told me about Thorpe and said that he was out of control.  He
_wanted_ me to tell the cops about him."  She nodded to herself. "And he knew
I'd go to Huggy for that--everyone knows he won't rat on you, but that he has
the ear of the police.  Though he did tell you about _me_," she said,
momentarily diverted by this thought.
 
"Who told you about Thorpe?" Sam pressed.
 
"Harry Marker," she said.  "But it won't do you no good.  He was killed."
 
"When?" Hutch asked.
 
"Three weeks ago," she replied with a knowing expression.  "It would have been
a few days after you went to that asylum."
 
Hutch and Sam looked at each other.
 
"There's probably a police report," Sam suggested.
 
"Let's go," Hutch said.
 
"Hey," Rosa said, reaching toward Hutch.  "I heard what happened. To your
partner, I mean.  I hope you nail the bastards.  For Harry, too."
 
Hutch nodded, and his eyes softened in thanks.  He and Sam hurried out of the
apartment and back to the station.
 
The report on Harry Marker was terse and to the point.  He had been shot once
in the head, motive unknown.  He hadn't been robbed, but given his known
gambling predilection, the best guess was that he had run out of time on his
debts.
 
"There's not much here," Sam said, discouraged.
 
"There is one thing," Hutch said pensively, looking at the report.
 
"What?"
 
"They have the bullet."
 
"So?" Sam asked, feeling lost.
 
"So, I think I'll have Ballistics run a comparison on this bullet with the
ones found at the asylum."
 
"Ahh," Sam said.  "Good idea."
 
 
Hutch called in a few favors to get Ballistics to run the comparison right
away.  Even so, there were several hours to wait before they could expect to
hear anything.  Hutch reviewed Cameron's file, while Sam put in some work on
other pending cases.  Or tried to; he mostly wondered what was taking Al so
long.  Neither man talked about the asylum case, or Starsky.  Hutch seemed to
have withdrawn from Sam again, putting him at a distance; Sam wasn't
surprised.  When the phone rang at about the time ballistics had promised, both
men jumped. 

Hutch glanced at Sam and reached for the phone.  "Hutchinson here," he said.
He listened, his face impassive, then said, "Thanks Sarah, I owe you one."  He
listened for a moment more.  "Okay, I owe you two," he acknowledged.  He hung
up the phone and looked at Sam.  "It's a match," he said quietly.  "Whoever
shot at me in the asylum, also killed Harry Marker two days later.  Or at
least the same gun was involved."
 
"Cameron," Sam said with conviction.
 
"There's nothing to tie him to this," Hutch said.  "And no one else is going
to believe your idea.  It's too insane."
 
Sam didn't pursue it, but he noticed the phrase _no one else_.  "All right,
then.  What _can_ we get Cameron on?"
 
"We know he's shipping drugs around the city--we just can't find out how he
does it.  The closest we ever came was when his brother was getting involved. 
The kid pulled risks that Cameron never would."
 
"Like shooting it out when it was hopeless," Sam said.
 
"Yeah," Hutch said grimly.  "Cameron's lawyer managed to get him off that time
by arguing it was the kid who'd set the distribution up.  All we found was
marijuana.  Cameron had probably given him that end of the business to ease
him into it.  No one's ever been able to catch Cameron with anything.  His
trucking operation would be the logical place, but it's clean as far as we
can tell."
 
"Tell him it's the school buses," Al suddenly interrupted, startling Sam
enough that he fell off the chair he had tipped back.
 
"You okay Mike?" Hutch asked, peering over the desk to where Sam sprawled on
the floor.
 
"Yeah, fine," Sam said, getting up and glaring at Al.  "I've just had an idea,
though."
 
"What?"
 
"Didn't it say in the file on Cameron that he runs a private school bus
company?"
 
"Yeah, so?"
 
"So, in uhh...where I worked before," Sam began.
 
"Chicago," Al prompted helpfully.
 
"Chicago," Sam confirmed.  "There was a guy who ran drugs using school buses. 
He figured no one would ever guess."
 
"School buses?" Hutch asked incredulously.  "But..."
 
"Think about it," Sam urged.  "Who'd suspect?  But I'll bet the buses go all
over the city.  And then there's field trips.  And who notices what buses do
after they've delivered the kids?"
 
"That's the ticket," Al confirmed.  "In 1985 Cameron gets convicted of running
drugs in school buses all over the county."
 
"I suppose it's possible," Hutch said dubiously.
 
"What do you say we go take a look?" Sam suggested.
 
Hutch nodded.
 
 
Locating one of Cameron's buses proved easy enough; he had close to a monopoly
on the private school busing.  Sam and Hutch discreetly trailed the bus as it
made its rounds after school in the afternoon.  They saw the bus, after
letting the last child off, pull into a quiet park drive and halt.  Sam
and Hutch positioned themselves on an overlooking hillside, watching
through binoculars as several men helped the bus driver unload bags from the
storage compartment underneath the bus, dividing the bags amongst themselves.
 
"I guess you were right," Hutch said to Sam, as he peered through the
binoculars.
 
"Well of course he was right," Al said impatiently.  "I told him, didn't I?"
 
Hutch continued, "But it's still going to be tough to nail Cameron on this. 
We'll have to catch him in the act of receiving the drugs, or the money, to
pin it on him."
 
"Couldn't we get someone to testify against him?" Sam asked.
 
"Yeah, sure.  But that kind of testimony doesn't necessarily get a conviction.
And he's got powerful friends."
 
"What are you saying?"
 
Hutch glanced at Sam, then returned to the binoculars.  "I'm saying we have to
play this slow, watch the setup for awhile, and make him play into our hands."

"We don't have time for that," Sam objected.  "If I'm right about Starsky..."
 
Hutch's hands tightened on the binoculars.  "That's right," he said in a
steady voice.  "We don't have the time. But without the drugs there's no
way we can justify busting in on Cameron.  And I'm not going to go over
there and present myself to him, asking for Starsky, if that's the game he's
playing.  We need help, but Captain Dobey will not authorize a search and
seizure at the bus company unless he can get Cameron too."
 
"Maybe you could explain," Sam suggested tentatively.
 
Hutch laughed, mirthlessly.  "Look, I'm not sure I even believe you.  You can
forget about Dobey."
 
Sam was silent for a moment.  "We're sure about the setup," he argued.  "We
can tell him about that, and then maybe he'd authorize picking up
Cameron--except we can't tie it to Cameron without explaining why we think
he'd do it, which he wouldn't believe," he objected to himself.
 
"Oh, good Sam," Al congratulated him, hooting.
 
"Hey!" Hutch said, tensing as he saw something through the binoculars.  "Look
who just showed up!"
 
"Who?  What?" Sam asked, looking toward the group below them, but unable to
see clearly without the binoculars.
 
"Theodore Graham," Hutch said with satisfaction.  "Well, well, well."
 
"Theodore Graham?" Sam questioned.
 
"Cameron's business manager," Al supplied, also peering down the hill.
 
"Come on," Hutch said, slithering back from the crest of the hill.  I think
he's taking a sample back to his boss.  Let's go pull him over for a traffic
violation."
 
They headed back for Sam's car, and set off in pursuit of Graham. A few
blocks away they pulled him over in a secluded area, and got out of the
car.  Al was still tagging along, very interested in all of these proceedings.
 
"Why, hello there Teddy," Hutch said cheerfully, walking up to the man on the
driver's side.
 
"Detective Hutchinson," Graham identified him.  Sam, peering at the man from
behind Hutch, recognized him as the nervous man who had been with Cameron that
day in the courthouse.  "What do you want?" Graham asked Hutch, twitching.
 
"You were speeding," Hutch said.  "Step out of the car, please."
 
"This is harassment," Graham said, with more conviction in his voice.  "I'll
file a protest."
 
"File away," Hutch said, "but step out of the car, please."
 
"See Sam?" Al said.  "I told you cops make up that bit about speeding.  No way
I was going 85 on that road the other day."  Sam ignored him.
 
Grumbling, Graham got out of the car.  Hutch walked him forward a bit to stand
in front of the car.  "I'll need your license and the car registration," he
said.
 
Graham reached for his wallet and gave Hutch the license.  "The registration
is in the car," he said.
 
"I'll get it," Sam volunteered, reaching into the car.
 
"No, I'll get it," Graham said urgently, moving back toward Sam.

Hutch grabbed him and said, "Let him get it, I'm not through with this yet."
 
Reluctantly, Graham stayed put.  "It's in the glove compartment," he called to
Sam.
 
"Right, okay," Sam acknowledged, and in his haste he tipped the briefcase that
had been on the front seat out of the car and into the street.  Unfortunately
the clasp was undone and the case opened up to reveal it's contents to the
world.
 
"Good job, Sam," Al complimented.
 
"Why, what's this?" Hutch asked, staring at the bag of white powder, and the
rolls of bills.  "Mike," he said, "come out here."
 
Sam got out of the car and picked up the case.  He examined the bag carefully
and said, "It looks like cocaine to me."
 
Graham, in desperation, jerked away from Hutch and started running.
 
"I'll shoot you if you don't get back here," Hutch called after him, pulling
out his gun.
 
"Graham slowed, then stopped and looked back.  Hutch waved him to return, and
he slowly did.  Hutch had Graham assume the position and then discovered the
business manager had a gun tucked away in his coat pocket.
 
"Tsk-tsk," Hutch said.  "Drugs, money and a gun.  You're in serious trouble,
my friend."  He handed the gun to Sam, finished frisking Graham, then turned
him around saying, "Now we're going to have a little talk."
 
"What have we got to talk about?" Graham asked nervously.
 
"About drugs, and money, and where you were on the night of August 6th."
 
Graham paled noticeably.  "August 6th?" he asked questioningly.  "That was a
long time ago--I can't remember that far."
 
"You'd better," Hutch said in a hard voice.  "Unless you want to be charged
with accessory to murder."
 
"I don't know what you're talking about," Graham protested, eyes darting from
Hutch to Sam and back.
 
Sam was examining the gun, along with Al.  "Hutch," he said in a quiet voice. 
"This is a .35.  Think it could be the same gun?"

Graham's eyes widened.  "The same gun as what?"
 
"The same gun," Hutch said, leaning closer to Graham, "that was used on August
6th to pin me in a room while my partner was killed.  The same gun that was
used to murder Harry Marker two days later."
 
"I-I don't know what you're talking about," Graham said.  "Lots of people own
.35's.  And I've never even heard of this Marker fellow."

"We'll check that out," Hutch promised.  "And if you did know him, you're only
digging yourself in deeper by lying about it."
 
Graham stared at him, then ran a tongue along dry lips.  "Marker?" he said. 
"Did you say Harry Marker?" Hutch nodded.  "Well, maybe I did know him--but
not well.  And I didn't have anything to do with his murder."
 
"Got him," Al said with satisfaction.
 
Hutch grabbed Graham, one hand at his throat.  "Look," he said in a menacing
voice.  "We know what went down.  We know it was a setup to kill Starsky out
of revenge for Cameron's brother.  We know that Marker was killed two days
later, with the same gun that was used at the asylum.  Even if it's not your
gun you're going to have to account for those two nights.  Right now you're
looking at charges of drug possession, and murder or accessory to murder for
Marker and for my partner.  You're taking a fall Teddy--the only questions are
how far and how long and whether you'll be alone or not.  And you know how
the courts deal with cop killers."
 
During this recitation Graham had started shaking.  "No," he groaned, shaking
his head.  "It's not me; I wasn't involved."  Finally, at Hutch's last
statement, he blurted out, "But he's not dead!"
 
Hutch's eyes blazed blue fire, and his hand tightened on Cameron's throat,
choking him.  "Where is he?" he ground out.
 
"I-I," Graham stuttered, reaching to the hand at his throat.  "Cameron's got
him!" he cried.
 
"Hutch," Sam ran forward.  "Let him go, let him go."  He eased Hutch's hand
off Graham.
 
The business manager, badly frightened, breathed a few deep breaths, then
stammered.  "He's been holding him.  I told him it was stuipid; going after
cops.  But he was so determined to get revenge--he wasn't thinking about
anything else."  He looked from Sam to Hutch, pleadingly.  "I wasn't
involved--really.  I-I knew about it, and I did contact Marker but I didn't
do anything else!"
 
Hutch turned away, struggling for control.
 
Graham looked at Sam.  "They-they might have used my gun," he said in a
terrified whisper.  "Cameron said it was to make sure I wouldn't interfere. 
But I wasn't there.  _I didn't do it_.  You have to believe me!"
 
"I believe you," Sam replied, glancing at Hutch.  "But I don't think it's
going to do you much good."
 
"Would you turn evidence against Cameron?" Hutch asked in a hard voice,
turning back.
 
"W-what?"
 
"Would you testify against your boss?"
 
"He'd kill me," Graham protested.  But he looked at the implacable faces of
Hutch and Sam, and shivered.  "If I did, what would it benefit me?"
 
Hutch looked at him with disfavor, and in clipped accents said, "We'll put the
word in with the D.A.  That we believe your story."
 
Slowly, Graham nodded.  "I'll do it."
 
Hutch glanced at Sam.  "We'll take him back to headquarters to get his
confession."  He turned his head toward Graham, his expression fierce. 
"Where's my partner?"
 
In a quavering voice Graham answered, "Vernon has him at his estate."
 
"Where at the estate?"
 
"In a bedroom in the back, second floor.  Vernon had bars put on the window. 
There's usually a guard at his door, too."

"How is he?" Hutch asked in a carefully neutral voice.
 
Graham looked helplessly at Sam, then answered faintly, "Not very well, I
think.  At first, Vernon was content to just hold him, but..." he looked
almost accusingly at Hutch, "Your partner's got a mouth on him--and he
wouldn't shut up!"
 
A very slight smile broke the severity of Hutch's face.  "That sounds like
Starsky," he murmured to Sam.
 
Graham continued, "Well, Vernon got angry, and they beat him.  And now Vernon
says he won't cooperate."
 
"Cooperate?  In what way?"
 
"Vernon wants him to call you, when the time is right.  To get you to go to
the asylum again.  He says he won't do it.  Vernon says he needs to be
convinced."
 
Hutch's whole face clenched, and Graham pulled back from the expression in his
eyes.  Hutch pulled Graham roughly around, herding him toward Sam's car. 
"Let's go," he said tightly to Sam.
 
--End of Part 8--
 
Beth Hillemann
hillemann@macalstr.edu