Like any good journalist, a homicide detective has to be able to get answers to the five question words: who, what, when, where, and why?<\/p>\n
Why do all the question words start with \u2018wh\u2019? I ponder this for a while \u2018cause things like that make me curious and after a bit I ask my partner what he thinks and he says, \u201cYou forgot how and that starts with an \u2018h\u2019.\u201d Yeah, I know. Irritating but he\u2019s right.<\/p>\n
People muddle our names up all the time; I don\u2019t know why. It\u2019s obvious that he\u2019s Hutch and I\u2019m not. For a start, he\u2019s blond and I\u2019m brunet. He\u2019s from Duluth; I was born in New York. He\u2019s academic; I got street smarts. He says I\u2019m uncouth so he must be couth with a capital C. He can be sunshine and darkness all in one day; me, I\u2019m more a blue sky with the occasional cloud or at least I think I am. We both love our jobs as detectives in the Bay City Police Department\u2026 that\u2019s the who in answer to your question.<\/p>\n
Like I say, we\u2019re detectives: we\u2019re also partners and best friends. We\u2019re chalk and cheese. We\u2019re yin and yang. We\u2019re two sides of the same coin and, by the way, I don\u2019t cheat at coin toss whatever Hutch says. We\u2019re Me and Thee: our own secret code for an army made up of two. The roles of attacker, defender, enforcer, negotiator, strategist, and chaplain interchangeable as needed. Sometimes, he\u2019s the \u2018Me\u2019 and I\u2019m the \u2018Thee\u2019; sometimes it\u2019s the other way round. We\u2019ve been connected so long, I truly don\u2019t know where he begins and I end. That\u2019s the what of us.<\/p>\n
When did we become best friends? I can\u2019t answer that. If you asked Hutch yesterday, he\u2019d have said, \u201cThe moment we met.\u201d Ask him today, he\u2019ll say, \u201cDon\u2019t ask stupid questions!\u201d Ask him tomorrow, he\u2019ll say, \u201cBefore time began.\u201d Yeah, he can\u2019t answer the question either.<\/p>\n
We live and work in Bay City, California, where the sun is always shining except when it rains; where the temperature it always ideal, except when it\u2019s too hot; where the rich and industrious rub shoulders with the homeless and hypes. We work with the criminal element but they can appear in any of those four types. Hey, hypes and types rhyme. Hey, Hutch, I\u2019m a poet and I didn\u2019t know it! My partner rolls his eyes at me and I grin back. So that\u2019s the where of it.<\/p>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t forget how,\u201d my pedantic partner interrupts my train of thought and I decide to humor him. So how? How do we do our jobs? How do we stay sane? Well, we do it with style, babe! Have you seen my car? A candy apple red Ford Gran Torino with a slick white stripe emblazoned on the side. A beaut! No, don\u2019t look at Hutch\u2019s car, it will make you cry. Shouldn\u2019t police detectives wear suits, you ask. No way. How d\u2019ya run after a perp in a suit and fancy shoes? Give me my blue Adidas running shoes any day of the week. How do we stay sane? Well, we got a good captain who keeps an eye on us; even shares his family with us. We got a place to hang out where our friend Huggy provides beer and advice. Got each other. What else do we need?<\/p>\n
I suppose you want to know the why? But what question are you asking? Hutch leans over and says, \u201cIt should be \u2018Which question are you asking?\u2019.\u201d Dang! That\u2019s another \u2018wh\u2019 word but that don\u2019t fit what I\u2019m thinking about. Shut up, Hutch! Stop interrupting, I\u2019m thinking here.<\/p>\n
I have a few why questions myself. Why do we do this job? Why are we partners? Why do we put up with each other? Why are we friends? Hutch pretends he\u2019s not interested in the answer but I know he is. Let me think.<\/p>\n
I guess we do this \u2018cause we like solving puzzles and we like helping people no-one else cares about. Why do we put up with each other? What\u2019s there to put up with? That\u2019s all surface stuff: the coping mechanisms; the bristling armor plating. You\u2019re only seeing the outer shell. You\u2019ll never see the inner workings: that place belongs to him and me alone.<\/p>\n
Why friends? I can\u2019t answer for Hutch but\u2026 he\u2019s loyal to the end; he\u2019s got my back; he\u2019ll protect me even from myself; he\u2019s my family when mine is so far away; he\u2019s let me in \u2013 inside his armor and that\u2019s a privileged place to be. I can trust him always; I can read his mind. I like him despite his grouchiness; despite the hot dog with no relish; despite the way he thinks he\u2019s always right; and even despite his car. I love him, plain and simple.<\/p>\n
Hutch fixes me with a look and asks, \u201cYou finished with that report yet, Gordo?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNearly, Blintz,\u201d I reply and we both know I\u2019m lying.<\/p>\n
Then he looks at me as if he\u2019s been listening all along to my thoughts (or was I talking out loud, I don\u2019t know for sure) and says, \u201cBy the way\u2026 likewise.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Like any good journalist, a homicide detective has to be able to get answers to the five question words: who, what, when, where, and why? Why do all the question words start with \u2018wh\u2019? I ponder this for a while … Continue reading