June 5th- A Favor For Dobey Part 2 by DPPatricks

Click here for Part 1

After Starsky and Hutch left the alley behind the ‘In and Out Tavern,’ they stopped at the Pits for a late lunch. The place was busy and they were well into their burgers and beers before Huggy had time to join them, bringing his own brown bottle. His expression was sly as he slid into the booth across from them. “What’s this I hear about you two hobnobbing with ah-rees-toe-crats?”

Starsky couldn’t hide his surprise. “Where’d you hear about that?”

Huggy’s sly turned to smug. “Minnie kept digging after you left. She called me. Told me about your new case.”

“You’re right, Huggy,” Hutch said. “Lady Hanover, is definitely upper crust.”

Starsky had already finished his fries and stole one off Hutch’s plate. “But her great grandson’s got himself into a whole shitload of trouble.”

“Ever heard of a guy named Thomas Long, Hug?” Hutch asked.

If Huggy Bear could have gone pale, Starsky figured he would have. As it was, his face lost all its usual humor. “Owner of the ‘In and Out Tavern,’ right?” When Starsky nodded, Huggy grimaced. “Yeah, I know him. And I’m here to tell you that he is one very bad dude!”

Starsky hadn’t seen his oldest friend shaken quite like that in an awful long time. “Tell us about him, Hug.”

Huggy swallowed a large gulp of brew, set the bottle down and wiped his mouth. “You went to ‘Nam, Starsky, and I tried to maintain the image of self-reliance you and I had managed to create for ourselves in the ‘hood.” He drank more beer. “Long came to town, though, and things changed. He was about our age, reckless — reminded me a little of you and me, Starsky — and started surrounding himself with a bunch of blacks and whites who were openly gay. The kind the rest of the world cheerfully called faggots.”

He signaled to the bar and Anita brought him another beer. She took the empty away and Huggy drank half the contents of his new bottle in one pull. Starsky waited patiently and was grateful that Hutch did, too.

Finally, Huggy looked up and met Starsky’s gaze. “You were always my anchor, Starsky, but you weren’t here. And I got sucked in. Not all the way, mind you, but close enough.”

When he didn’t continue right away, Hutch prodded, gently. “Go on.”

“I found out he was into some pretty heavy shit. He had a councilman in his pocket; I never found out who. The guy was a closet gay — as most were at the time — who fed Long information that I was told led to extortion… and worse. I heard he had a list of people he was blackmailing. Beatings were common.”

“And no one reported these things?” Hutch asked.

Huggy shook his head and drank. “They couldn’t, Hutch. They’d have lost their positions, their influence, everything, if the public found out they were gay. That label was almost worse than death!”

“What happened?” Starsky asked.

Huggy winced. “I was on the fringes of his group but I guess I wasn’t as enthusiastic about the style of life he wanted his followers to pursue so… Long and three of his best buddies are what happened. I was gang-raped. They probably thought I was dead when they left. But I wasn’t. A cousin of mine found me and got me to Aunt Celia. She took care of me for the month I needed to heal and get back on my feet.”

Starsky reached across the table and put a hand on Huggy’s arm. “Did you report it?”

“Naw. I figured the cops couldn’t do nothin’. This was before you joined up, Starsky, and my opinion of the boys in blue wasn’t too great.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me about this?” Starsky asked.

Huggy patted the hand before he drew his arm away. “Because you didn’t need to hear it. You came back with enough of your own demons. You didn’t need mine on your shoulders, too.”

“But Hug –“

Huggy waved the protest off with a rueful grin. “Over and done with, m’ man. And I’ve managed to avoid the sonavabitch ever since.” He drilled a hard look into Starsky’s eyes. “But you need to believe me when I tell you he is one mean, sadistic, powerful asshole. Do not ever turn your back on him.”

“He’s got Lady Hanover’s great grandson in his thrall,” Hutch said.

“An’ you need to… extricate him.” Huggy nodded. “I get it. I’m just sayin’, be very, very careful.”

Back at Metro, Hutch opened Dobey’s hallway door in response to the bellowed, “Come in,” and followed Starsky inside.

“What have you found out?” Dobey asked as they sat down.

Quickly and concisely, Hutch, with Starsky adding a few details, related their conversations with Long, Dillon, and Magpie.

Afterward, Starsky talked about Huggy’s warning. He didn’t go into the details behind the cautions, however, and Hutch was glad. Huggy didn’t need anyone else, even Dobey, knowing about his ordeal.

“You listen to what he told you!” Dobey’s voice was a little harsher than it needed to be but Hutch understood the reason. “I don’t want either one of you taking any chances with Long!”

“We won’t, Cap,” Starsky responded.

“So, what are you going to do about Dillon?” Dobey asked.

“He has a room at the St. Francis,” Starsky said.

Dobey winced and silent memories were shared. “You going to talk to him tonight after he gets off work?”

Hutch nodded. “That’s the plan.”

“Guess you’ll have to see what he has to say and then play it by ear.” Dobey shuffled files on his desk, no longer looking at them. “Good luck.”

Knowing they’d been dismissed, Hutch got up. “We’ll let you know.”

“Do that!”

Out in the corridor, Hutch thought about the conversation as they walked to the stairwell. “That’s probably the best we could have hoped for.”

“At least he’s leaving it up to us.” Starsky opened the door and held it.

“Now, let’s just hope we don’t screw things up for the kid.” 

Starsky stopped on the top step, turned to face him and donned an offended expression. “What? Us? Screw things up?”

Hutch laughed and started down the stairs. “Let’s go check the mug books. See if any of Long’s… associates are in them.”

At two a.m., Starsky showed his badge to the desk clerk at the St. Francis. “Which room is Dillon Hanover in?”

The bald man lifted his head from a porn magazine and beady, mud-brown eyes stared at them. “You got a warrant?”

“No, I don’t got a warrant.” Starsky turned to Hutch. “You got a warrant?”

Remembering the years-earlier exchange with Janos’ henchmen, Hutch smiled. “Nope.” He leaned casually on the counter. “We’re not here to hassle your resident. We only want to talk to him.”

The clerk got off his stool and backed up a step, obviously feeling threatened, even though Hutch thought he’d been anything but. “He ain’t come in yet.”

Hutch nodded. “We know. He just got off work, he and Magpie will be here any time now.”

“Okay. So ya know ‘im. But I ain’t givin’ ya the key.”

Hutch straightened up. “Of course not. Just tell us what room and we’ll wait for him in the hall.”

“Four twelve.” The clerk backed farther away. “Don’t tell ‘im I tol’ ya.”

“We wouldn’t dream of it.” Hutch put his arm around Starsky’s shoulders and, glancing at the Out of Order sign on the elevator, headed for the stairs. “Waiting in the hallway’s better than waiting down here, don’t you think, Starsk?”

“Anywhere’s better than here!”

Hutch chuckled. “Such charming employees and attractive ambiance…. I’d almost forgotten.”

Starsky huffed. “I’ll bet.”

Hutch opened the fourth floor stairwell door for his partner and followed him to Four-twelve. Starsky knocked but there was no answer, which Hutch had expected, because they were early. He leaned against the opposite wall and Starsky joined him.

About fifteen minutes later, Dillon walked out of the stairwell. He stopped in his tracks and, for a moment, looked as if he was going to bolt. Instead, putting on an air of aloof unconcern, he shouldered past them and slipped his key into the lock on his door.

“We just want to talk,” Starsky said.

“We’re not here to hassle you,” Hutch added.

Dillon turned around and glared at them. “Thomas told me not to say a word to you guys.”

“Got you on a short leash, huh?” Starsky’s sarcasm was knife-edged.

“I’m not on anybody’s leash!” Dillon growled. “Get outta my face!”

Hutch put a hand on Dillon’s arm. “Listen, son –“

Dillon flung the hand off. “I’m not your son!” He pushed his door open, probably intending to slam it in their faces but Hutch bulled his way inside with him. Starsky followed, shutting the door behind.

Dillon definitely had not expected that. “What do… What do you think you’re doing? You can’t barge in here like this!”

Starsky leaned against the wall. “What kind of acts has Long got you participating in there at ‘In and Out,’ kid? Do you get to show off on-stage? Or has he got you stashed in the back rooms with his slimy clients?”

“That’s none of your damn business!”

Hutch could feel Dillon’s eyes on him as he prowled, picking up and putting down various objects and items.

“Wha… what are you doing?” Dillon sputtered. “Those things belong to me, you’ve got no right –“

Starsky pushed himself off the wall and stalked into Dillon’s face. “We do when it involves extortion!”

Dillon stumbled back a step. “What are you talking about?”

Hutch moved to Dillon’s right side. “Your great grandmother got a letter, no signature, no return address.”

“It implied,” Starsky continued, “that you’d be sent back to her, safe and sound, if she begins cashing in and liquidating assets and waits for further instructions.”

Dillon sat down heavily on the ratty sofa. “Why… that’s…”

Starsky sat on his left. “Yeah, it is.”

Dillon looked at him. “And you think Thomas sent it?”

Hutch sat down on his other side. “We know he did. That’s the kind of man you’ve gotten yourself involved with, Dillon.”

Dillon shifted into a defiant attitude and leaned back. “I don’t believe you!”

“You know the waiter with the white streaks in his dark hair?” Starsky asked.

Dillon nodded. “Sure. Magpie.”

“He knows what your boss is into,” Hutch said. “Ask him. When Long’s not around.”

“Magpie told us you need to get out before you’re drawn in too deep,” Starsky went on. “The way he apparently is.”

Dillon swallowed audibly. “He’s got the room next door here but he’s never said anything to me.”

Hutch shrugged. “Probably knows Long might kill him if he did.”

Dillon wrapped his arms around himself and thought for a moment. “Come to think of it, Magpie’s the only one who didn’t take any part in my… initiation last week.”

“What’d they do to you?” Hutch allowed the compassion he felt for this young man to creep into his voice. When the boy began to tremble, Hutch felt it through the thread-bare couch.

“Nothing I wasn’t expecting.”

It was obvious the memory wasn’t a pleasant one and Hutch’s feelings ramped up a notch. “Hurt a lot, didn’t it?”

“That’s what happens, kid,” Starsky added, “when you’re not prepped and ready.”

Dillon glanced at each of them. “You two are gay, right? I saw the news conference on the City Hall steps.”

“The world may look at us that way,” Hutch replied, “label us that way. But, if we are, it’s our version.”

“We’re exclusive to each other, Dillon,” Starsky explained. “We don’t sleep around. We’re going to be married as soon as the state passes a law that says we can.”

Dillon didn’t even try to hide his surprise. “Really?”

Hutch smiled. “Really! We love each other, Dillon. We don’t just like to fuck.”

“Although we do enjoy that.” Starsky chuckled. “A lot!”

Dillon almost choked on what might have been a laugh. “How do I find out if I’m gay or not?”

“Have you ever had romantic feelings for a man?” Starsky asked.

“Like you wanted to have a candle light dinner with him?” Hutch half-way turned toward Dillon and brought his left knee up onto the sofa. He didn’t want to threaten the guy any longer. “Feel like you wanted to treat him to a movie, or the theater?”

“Talk to him about a book you enjoyed?” Starsky shifted into a less-dominant position, as well. “Take a walk with him in the park?”

“There was someone in high school…” Dillon’s tone was reminiscent.

“And?” Starsky prompted.

Dillon shrugged. “And nothing. I was too scared to say anything. He was, too, maybe.”

“Anybody else?” Hutch prodded.

“Actually…” Dillon grew thoughtful. “I’d ask Magpie out, if I didn’t think Thomas would throw a fit.”

“By the way, where is Magpie?” Hutch asked. “Doesn’t he leave after closing, like you do?” He exchanged a charged look with Starsky — maybe Long had noticed Magpie following Starsky into the men’s room, and then out into the alley — maybe Magpie was in jeopardy.

Dillon waved a hand. “Things got a little rowdy after you guys left and the shenanigans went on all night. Thomas asked him to stay a while and help clean up. He’ll be here any minute.”

“Talk to him when he shows up.” Starsky stood and dug their card out of his pocket, holding it toward Dillon. When Dillon made no move to take it, Starsky dropped it on the arm of the sofa.

“Don’t wait until morning,” Hutch added. “And after you talk to him, call us. Doesn’t matter what time it is, Metro’ll put you through.” He got up and followed Starsky to the door before turning back. “Your great grandmother loves you, Dillon. Unconditionally. And she’s worried.”

“So call us,” Starsky repeated.

Starsky rolled onto his side and snuggled his slightly aching ass back into Hutch’s wilting cock. Hutch’s arms came around him and drew him close. His lover’s breath stirred the curls under his right ear.

“Hmmmmmmmmmm,” Hutch murmured. “That was spectacularly nice.”

Starsky chuffed. “Nice? That’s the best you can do?” He turned over and snaked his arms around Hutch’s long, lean body, nuzzling his scratchy cheek against his partner’s smooth chest. “Is the honeymoon over or somethin’?”

“Hmmmmmmmmmm,” Hutch repeated. “The best. At least since the last time I was inside you.”

Starsky tightened his grip. “Okay, I guess that’ll do.” After their prolonged, energetic love-making, though, he could tell Hutch wasn’t any sleepier than he was. So he decided to address the elephant in the room. “What can we do about Dillon, if he doesn’t call?”

“We’ll figure something out. Right now, my mind’s struggling with Huggy’s revelation. He never told you any of that?”

“Never.”

“Awful burden to keep to himself.”

“Huggy’s always been that way. I used to have to drag stuff out of him. He’s almost more of a private person than you are.”

“I suppose I knew that. But why have we never heard of Thomas Long before now?”

“We’re still pretty new in the gay community, Hutch. And I think his criminal activities must be fairly well hidden.”

“You’re probably right.

“We can’t go in and physically remove Dillon, you know,” Starsky pointed out. “He’s an adult.”

“And we didn’t find any of the bar patrons’ faces in our mug books. No wants or warrants.”

“Too bad, too. That would’ve given us a reason to go back. Maybe, during the arrest, we could’ve gotten Dillon out.”

Hutch nodded. “We’ll just have to find a way to convince him to leave of his own accord.”

“And make damn sure Long knows he better not retaliate in any way.”

“Oh, yeah, damn sure!”

“He made my skin crawl when we first walked in. I felt like I was in the presence of Evil, itself.”

Hutch stroked his back. “I did, too.”

Starsky snuggled more deeply into Hutch’s arms. “I feel sorry for gays who only know that kind of perversion.”

“We’re really lucky, Starsk. We found each other without having to go through any of that.”

Starsky finally felt himself drifting. “Don’t I know it,” he muttered.

Next morning, while Starsky and his partner were briefing Dobey on their conversation with Dillon, Dobey’s phone rang. He answered it somewhat angrily. “What?” The response was enough to have Dobey hitting the speaker button and hanging up. “Say that again!”

“A man known as Magpie…” The operator’s voice bounced around the room, “is at Memorial Hospital, Captain Dobey. He’s the victim of a severe beating and possible gang-rape. He asked an intern to call here. He says he needs to talk to Starsky and Hutchinson right away.”

As Starsky opened the hallway door for Hutch, he heard Dobey say, “They’re on their way!”

With the Mars light flashing and siren wailing, Starsky hurried the Torino through scattering traffic. He screeched to a halt near the Emergency entrance and bolted through the doors on Hutch’s heels.

A gurney was just being wheeled out of the E.R. and they ran to it, displaying their credentials and paying no attention to the intern who attempted to block them. “This patient can’t talk to you now. He’s on his way to surgery.”

“We know.” Starsky shoved past the startled doctor to Magpie’s side as the orderlies continued toward the elevator. Hutch walked at the injured man’s head.

A sheet covered Magpie’s body but his face was a mess. Both eyes were swollen, his lips were split, his chin, cheeks and eyebrows held temporary bandages that had blood seeping through. IV bags hung from poles on both sides of the rolling cot, their tubes trailing under the sheet.

Somehow, Magpie must have heard their approach because he turned his head and tried to focus on Starsky. “Long has taken Dillon, and a few of the more violent members of our circle, to Mrs. Hanover’s.” Magpie grabbed Starsky’s hand. “I’m afraid of what Long plans to do.”

As they reached the elevator, Starsky gently placed Magpie’s hand back under the cover. “We’ll take care of it, Magpie.”

Hutch patted Magpie’s shoulder. “You just concentrate on staying alive and getting well.”

Magpie tried to smile, making his lips bleed again. “Do my best.”

Starsky and Hutch ran out to the Torino and piled in.

Hutch picked up the mic and keyed it. “This is Zebra Three. Patch me through to Captain Dobey.”

While Starsky flew out of the parking lot, Dobey’s voice came over the speaker. “Dobey here!”

“Magpie just told us Long and some of his gang have taken Dillon. They’re on their way to Lady Hanover’s.”

“I’ll get backup and meet you there!” Dobey clicked off.

Starsky concentrated on his driving and didn’t even blink when the radio squawked a few minutes later. “Zebra Three, I have a patch through from Captain Dobey.”

Hutch grabbed the mic. “Go ahead, Captain.”

“The switchboard just got a call from Dillon.” The background noise of his car’s engine and siren made Dobey’s voice a little difficult to hear. “He’s at his great grandmother’s and there’s been a fight. How far away are you?”

“About two minutes, Cap,” Hutch replied.

“Me, too.” Dobey disconnected.

Dobey’s unmarked sedan flew toward the gate from the right and Starsky backed off enough to allow his captain’s car to precede the Torino through the wide open entrance. Two black-and-whites followed them.

The grounds were deserted which made Starsky even more uneasy. The empty Lincoln was parked beside the front stairs.

Once they’d all blocked in the TownCar and scrambled out of their vehicles, Dobey gestured for the four uniforms to split up and go around the house. “We’re going inside. Meet us at the terrace entrance.”

Motioning for Starsky and Hutch to follow him, Dobey drew his weapon and walked cautiously through the gaping front doors. Loud voices, curses and screams were coming from the solarium. Starsky unzipped his jacket and put his hand on the butt of his gun as they hurried.

The scene that greeted Starsky’s eyes in that formerly pristine room was one he’d never forget. Most of the furniture was overturned or broken but Mrs. Hanover was seated, regally, in her wing back chair; her face was a study in pride and satisfaction.

Dillon stood rigidly and protectively by her left side, in place of the usual piecrust table, which was in pieces near the window. Dillon’s hand was holding hers and the expression on his face was fierce.

Horatio stood rigidly on Thomas Long’s chest, his bared fangs inches from Long’s throat. The growl that rumbled in the dog’s massive chest was hair-raising. A pistol lay close to Long’s right hand but he was making no move to retrieve it.

Anubis’ jaws were clamped firmly around the right arm of the bouncer who was swearing a blue streak and struggling, futilely. Even the strength in his massive left fist was no match for that of the Doberman’s grip.

Walter, snarling, snapping, and yapping, dashed between two other gang members on the floor who were cowering under the threatening stances and brandished rakes, shovels, and pick axes held by the gardener and his assistants.

Bowers, the remains of a teapot in her hand, stood beside Carlson — who held a silver-headed cane as if he could wield it proficiently — and his wife. Mrs. Carlson had a meat cleaver clutched to her apron-clad chest.

There were several guns scattered around the floor.

As soon as Mrs. Hanover noticed the newcomers in the doorway, she called to Walter, who instantly bounded to her. She scooped him up and settled him in her lap.

Mrs. Hanover, Dillon, and the household staff had fallen silent but Long and his friends were babbling, making demands, and cursing.

The doorman was sobbing. When Mrs. Hanover spoke a quiet word and Anubis let his bleeding arm go, he held it to his chest, his eyes never leaving the still threatening Doberman.

“Silence!” Dobey shouted as he walked into the room. Everyone who was still making noise shut up. At a second soft word from Mrs. Hanover, Horatio stepped away from Long and went to sit by her right side, opposite Dillon.

Dobey leaned over the tavern owner. “Thomas Long, you are under arrest. I know one of the charges will be assault with a deadly weapon. I’ll read you your rights before you’re questioned and figure out what the rest of the charges will be after we get you downtown.” He gestured to the four uniforms standing by the French doors. “Call the paramedics and have any injuries treated before you transport these guys! And I don’t want any of them out of your sight for a second!”

Starsky helped the officers collect the fallen weapons, cuff the bad guys, and herd them outside.

By the time he got back, the unbroken chairs had been righted, others had been brought in from elsewhere, and Bowers was serving tea.

Hutch moved to his side. “I don’t know about you, Starsk, but I’m feeling a little superfluous.”

“If that means useless, I get it.”

“Hardly useless, Starsky,” Dobey growled, joining them. “You’re the ones who found Dillon. And, whatever you said to him, got him thinking clearly, so that when Long brought him here to do wrong, he did right.”

“Okay. Yeah, I guess.” Starsky shrugged. “First take-down I’ve been to where I never even pulled my gun.”

Hutch put an arm around his shoulders. “Look at it this way, partner, we don’t have to fill out weapon-discharge forms.”

Starsky brightened. “That’s right! We don’t.”

That night, at the Pits, Starsky, Hutch, Dobey and Minnie were seated around one of the tables when Huggy pulled up a chair and joined them.

“So…” Huggy was visibly pleased, “I hear Lady Hanover’s great grandson is home safe and sound.”

“He is, Huggy,” Dobey replied, his usually gruff voice sounding almost mellow. “And each of us believes he’s learned a lot about himself.”

“I’m all ears, guys.” Huggy leaned his elbows on the table. “Tell me how it went down.”

Starsky related the facts, concluding with, “Long and his clowns never considered Mrs. Hanover’s staff and dogs as possible threats. He probably figured all he had to do was show up, wave a gun in Dillon’s direction, and Lady Hanover would hand over everything he wanted.”

“Only, once Dillon had announced himself at the gate,” Dobey continued, “and driven onto the grounds, Baskin, the head gardener, hadn’t liked the look of Dillon’s passengers. He and his helpers ran around to the terrace.”

“Carlson, the butler,” Hutch said, picking up the thread, “sensed bad things from Dillon’s expression and posture as soon as he opened the door. While allowing them all to enter, he lifted a cane from the umbrella stand and, once in the solarium, was able to make good use of it during the melee.”

“The three dogs?” Minnie asked.

Starsky nodded. “Dillon told us Horatio attacked Long, while Anubis and Walter kept the others busy until Carlson and Baskin managed, with the help of everyone else, to take control of the situation.”

“That’s when Dillon was able to call the station,” Dobey finished.

“And no one was hurt?” Minnie seemed to have trouble believing that.

Dobey almost smiled. “A few bites — the doorman, was the worst — some knots on heads — nothing stitches, antiseptic, and lots of aspirin didn’t take care of.”

“The dogs have had their shots…” Starsky continued.

“So there’s no chance Long or one of his cronies will get rabies,” Hutch completed the thought.

“Unfortunately,” Starsky muttered. Hutch’s foot rubbed his under the table and Starsky stifled a laugh.

“So, all’s well that ends well, I presume?” Huggy’s voice held a tone Starsky thought he understood.

Starsky caught his oldest friend’s gaze and held it. “Thomas Long is going away for as many years as the D.A. can convince a judge and jury to give him, Hug.”

“You were absolutely right about his being a bad dude, Mr. Bear,” Dobey added, almost gleefully. “We easily got a warrant, and the files in his office safe are damning. The prosecutor will have fun deciding which of many felonies should take precedence, but he’s promised he’ll pursue all of them.”

Starsky nodded, sending Huggy more silent reassurance. “You’ll never have to think about him again.”

Huggy lifted his bottle and clinked it against Starsky’s. “Thank you.”

Starsky could tell that Dobey and Minnie didn’t understand that last exchange but Hutch did and that’s all Starsky cared about at the moment. All’s well that ends well, indeed, came wordlessly from his partner.

Starsky and Hutch, in the Torino, and Dobey, in Dobey’s Crown Vic, met Dillon at the hospital when he went to pick up Magpie a few days later. While Dillon left to take care of the paperwork and to push the wheelchair, Dobey treated Starsky and Hutch to cups of terrible coffee in the waiting room.

“Lady Hanover is sure about this, is she?” Hutch’s question addressed all the concerns Starsky was pretty sure each of them had.

Dobey sipped, managing not to gag, and nodded. “She tells me she wants to get to know Dillon’s friend. The house is more than big enough and, with a nurse coming every day until she’s no longer needed, Mrs. Hanover is sure the staff can handle the rest of Magpie’s recovery.”

“That’s probably the best thing that could happen,” Starsky said. “To Dillon and Magpie.”

Dillon and Magpie in the Lincoln, followed by Dobey in his Crown Vic, and Starsky and Hutch in the Torino, drove under the banner that stretched above the estate’s main entrance. It read, ‘Welcome Home, Dillon.’

Starsky pointed at the two words that had been hand-lettered at the end, “And Magpie!” “That about covers it.”

“I suspect,” Hutch said, “if they can’t figure out how they really feel about each other, and themselves, while they’re both here, they never will.”

“My money’s on them, Hutch.” Starsky parked the Torino behind the other cars and watched as Carlson pushed a wheelchair down the newly-installed ramp at the side of the front steps and rolled it to the passenger’s door of the TownCar. Dillon bailed out of the driver’s seat, ran around, and was in time to help Magpie out and into the chair.

Starsky took Hutch’s hand, content to be an observer, and was pleased that his partner didn’t seem to be in any hurry to join the group. “Maybe, if I backed away real slow, they’d never miss us.”

Hutch squeezed his fingers. “Too late, buddy.”

Starsky glanced toward the front doors and saw Mrs. Hanover staring in their direction.

“Don’t you two even think of leaving!” Her voice was clear and strong enough to carry over the commotion at the Lincoln. “I haven’t had a chance to thank you properly yet. Get out of that car and come in! I won’t ever let Harold forgive you if you don’t.”

Starsky shrugged. “Guess we’ve been summoned.”

Hutch nodded and opened his door. “I believe we have.”

By the time they made it to the door, Mrs. Hanover had herded everyone else inside. She blocked their path and put her arms around their necks. She was tall enough that she didn’t have to stretch very much in order to plant a kiss on first Hutch’s cheek, then Starsky’s.

When she stepped back, her face was flushed and her eyes were full of gratitude. “I will never, ever be able to thank you both enough. You’ve given me a huge gift.” Before Starsky could think of a word to say, she turned around between them, taking Hutch’s left hand in her right and Starsky’s right hand in her left. “Now, come! The celebration is set to begin on the terrace.”

Hurrying them along faster than Starsky had realized she could move, he glanced across the top of her head and met Hutch’s beaming smile. “We go with the flow, right, partner?”

“It doesn’t look like we have much choice.”

Mrs. Hanover chuckled. “None whatsoever!”

Out on the terrace, Magpie and Dillon were surrounded by young people Starsky thought were probably Dillon’s friends, from school and elsewhere, and every one of them seemed happy to have him back in their midst.

Mrs. Hanover dragged them over to the group just as Dillon introduced his companion. “I’d like you all to meet Robert Magnus Piper!”

After Mrs. Hanover had moved away, and amid over-lapping ‘welcome,’ ‘glad to meet you,’ etc., Starsky whispered in Hutch’s ear. “Maybe he bleached his hair to match his nickname, instead of the other way around?”

“I wouldn’t be at all surprised.”

“Should that teach us not to jump to conclusions?” Starsky asked, quietly.

“Probably.”

“Will it?”

Hutch smiled. “Probably not.”

Starsky nearly jumped when Dobey came up behind them and put his hands on their shoulders, peering between them toward the boisterous crowd.

“You did good, fellas,” Dobey said.

“Thanks, Cap,” Starsky replied. “It feels like good.”

 

That night, Hutch rolled over and gathered Starsky into his arms. “Did the gentle, solicitous way we just made love have anything to do with today’s celebration, you think?”

Starsky snuggled. “It sure affected me. I felt like I wanted to cherish you. Try to show you just how much I adore you.”

“I know I’ve said this before but I need to say it again. We’ve been so lucky, Starsk. We found each other, we’re there for each other…”

“We depend on each other but we support each other, too.” Starsky looked up. “We love each other.”

Hutch kissed the offered lips. “I truly hope Dillon and Magpie –“

“Robert Magnus,” Starsky interrupted with a snicker.

“Quite a name, huh? I truly hope they find something similar to what we have.”

“With Mrs. Hanover rooting for them and giving them every opportunity, they’d be idiots if they fucked it up.”

Hutch winced. “Crude, but well put.”

Starsky leaned back, a glint in his eyes. “You know me, Hutch, I ain’t nothin’ if I ain’t crude, rude, irreverent, impatient… uh, intolerant… uncultivated…”

“You mean, uncultured?”

“Whatever.”

“Starsky, are you trying to get me stirred up again?”

His partner’s impish expression matched the talented fingers that were sliding toward Hutch’s nether regions. “Maybe… Is it working?”

Hutch smothered his laughter and passion against Starsky’s mouth. “Oh, yeah.”