Prelude

© by Elsa

“What’s going on, Charlie?”

Charlie Burroughs, acting officer shrugged his chubby shoulders. David Starsky and Ken Hutchinson had known him from day one, ever since they stepped into the Bay City Police Station, years ago.

Charlie was not the most likeable person around. His years – he was twelve years older than the two – in the force had made him bitter and hard. His lack of exercise and bad eating habits had made him too heavy and too slow. Despite his unfriendly attitude, the two partners had never had much of an argument with him. Their differences of opinion were usually solved before things could get out of hand.

Hutch looked around and saw the ambulance taking of, with wailing sirens and flashing lights. While Starsky talked to Burroughs, the other officer took a look at the crime scene. The rain had stopped but the street was still glistening and the air was humid. Broken glass. Spangles that came from a dress. A heel of a lady’s shoe. A little mirror, broken in shards. A powder case. A lipstick. A small puddle, the small gesture between thumb and forefinger wordlessly telling a tale of violence.

“Not much. Some hooker beat up. That’s all.”

Starsky’s eyebrows went up. “Huh?”

“A hooker. Got a good licking.” Burroughs scratched his two-days stubble.

“A good licking?” Starsky repeated Burroughs’ words. Those who knew him sensed the disbelief mingled with disgust that was beginning to show.

Starsky followed Hutch’s movements as he looked him on the back while he was going through the remains on the street. His blond hair shone dully in the nocturnal lights and if it wasn’t for the light jacket and his hair, he would’ve been hard to spot, being dressed in black. The blond officer squatted down and picked up something from the ground but Starsky couldn’t see what it was. Something changed in Hutch’s posture. He tensed, or froze. He recognized the object he’d picked up.

Burroughs heaved his trousers up. “Hookers … pathetic. All of them. One more in the hospital will make my task easier.”

“Easier?”

“Yeah. Don’t get me started.” He hawked up something indefinable. “I’m wasting too much of my time on cheap trash.”

“Cheap trash.” The tone had changed.

“I’m not loosing sleep over a case like this. Hookers. Ugh!”

Starsky took a deep breath. Burroughs misunderstood that completely.

“Yeah, I know what you mean, kid. Maggots, right? I hate maggots.”

“Burroughs...” The dark haired officer, a lot smaller than Burroughs, took a step closer to his colleague and spread his legs lightly. Anger radiated from him like heat from a stove. His voice was soft, eerily controlled. Uncanny calm, for those who knew Starsky.

“What?”

“If I ever – ever – EVER – hear you speak about a prostitute like that again, I will personally see to it that you will never be able to work in the police force again.”

“Hey kid…”

“Don’t kid me. I’m a Detective Sergeant. I’m telling you once again – you show some respect for girls in the trade.”

“Girls in the trade?” Burroughs let out a smirk. “If that’s what gets you off…”

Inside Starsky a wire snapped. Even though Burroughs was bigger than Hutch and most likely pretty strong he grabbed him by the collar of his police uniform and pushed him backwards until they staggered to a halt against a car.

“Now you listen to me.” Starky’s voice was drenched with menace, coming from deep within, making the big Burroughs suddenly look like a little kid. “That girl has a mum, a dad, a sister, a brother. That was once a little girl with pigtails who dreamt about Knights in Shining Armour, Princes on White Horses and a career as a teacher or stewardess when she’d grow up. That girl had high expectations once. Somewhere along the way she ran into the wrong people. People who didn’t believe in her, people who pushed her down the wrong path. People from whom she couldn’t escape.”

Burroughs opened his mouth.

“Shut up! I’m not finished. Have you ever considered what she must feel like? When slithering, slimy men who cheat on their wives come to her for a quickie? When punks with loose hands like to slap her face so that she’ll scream and give them more pleasure? When her clients ignore her in the supermarket or treat her ill while the evening before they were spilling their seed into her body? Huh? Having you ever thought about that?”

“I don’t really care—“ Burroughs began.

“I told you to shut up. Charlie – I’m a people’s man. I like to think of people as people. I know a few working girls with hearts of gold who ran into insensitive assholes like you. I can tell it when I talk to them that their dreams aren’t completely gone yet. They meet friendliness with the warmest embrace imaginable and a life long invaluable friendship. They respect me, Charlie. They respect me, and Hutch, for we talk to them, we laugh with them, we cry with them – we respect them because we see them as women with dreams and expectations. And if you had one shred of decency in your bone left, you’d pay them the same courtesy.” Starsky panted lightly from anger but he didn’t twitch.

His grip on Burroughs had tightened as his anger made him clench his fists even more. Burroughs gritted his teeth.

“Have I made myself clear, Charlie? What you do in your own time is your business but if I ever find out that you did not understand me, I’ll make sure the message comes through. Clear? CLEAR?”

Speaking was getting a bit difficult with the other squeezing his collar and tie shut. Burroughs was offended and that showed from his face.

“Let go of me,” he croaked.

“Starsk…” A voice behind him.

“Starsk… Let him go. You’ve made your point.” Hutch’s voice was so beat that his partner registered it instantly. A hand on the blue windbreaker, a gentle squeeze on his shoulder – David Starsky let go. Burroughs furiously straightened his clothes.

“You’re insane,” he spat.

“It’s Sweet Alice.” Hutch said tiredly, totally ignoring Burroughs. “Sweet Alice, Starsk…”

“Jeez… Hutch…”

“She’s alive. Barely.” Sweet Alice, a working girl who’d been on their side for so long and who had a soft spot for Hutch. Sweet Alice who lived up to her name. Sweet Alice who was the school example of a girl who hoped that one day she would break free.

“I bet you get it for free at her place, ‘ey?”

“Let’s go.” The hospital, see Sweet Alice. Starsky knew what Hutch meant without asking.

“Does she do threesomes?” Burroughs’ words were like liquid venom. “You and Hutch into that, ‘ey?”

Starsky turned around, lashing out to take a swing at Burroughs but Hutch grabbed him by his arm and hissed in a pressing manner, “Don’t Starsk. He’s not worth it.”

Deep blue eyes contacted grey ones in a flabby face. It took Hutch all his strength to keep Starsky in place and it took Starsky all his will not to lash out and kick the hell out of Burroughs.

“Starsk…”

The silence between the three was like the still before a thunderstorm. One flash, one discharge of electricity…

“Starsk… come on, buddy …”

“Hutch’s right,” Starsky finally said, “You’re not worth it.”

 

*~*

 

In the Torino, Starsky took a few deep breaths to get himself under control.

“I hate Burroughs. Always have.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

"He was never worth wasting time over."

"Yeah. That's why I always ignored him when he was pushing us around."

 

For a while the engine of the Torino was the only sound. It was familiar and made Starsky relax.

“Thanks,” Hutch said softly, next to him. Starsky knew his friend was upset about the attack on Sweet Alice – he knew Hutch liked her a lot.

“What for? For not hitting him on the face?”

“No. For saying what you said. For standing up for Sweet Alice and all the others.”

Hutch ran his finger over the inscription on a silver cigarette case he’d picked up from the ground. My Sister Sweet, it said. He recognised it anywhere as once Sweet Alice had shown it to him proudly – a gift from Alice’s younger sister.

“That shop on Causeway’s still open,” the smaller man said with a nod, acknowledging the gratitude. “Let’s get her something. Flowers, a teddy bear, a box of chocolates – anything.”

“Yeah. Great idea.”

 

The End

Elsa, August 2004