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PART 1

THE SAND DOLLAR

Starsky was beginning to wish he hadn't left the hospital. It really hurt to walk and he was feeling a little light-headed and nauseous, but he was sick of everyone looking at him with that pitying expression. He knew sooner or later Hutch would break down his resistance and force him to talk about things he just couldn't face. His only salvation was in getting Chartreuse and his merry band of perverts and putting them away. Even then that was too good for them. If they had a smart lawyer, they would end up serving little or no time. He got himself a room and soaked in a hot tub for a while. He'd gotten used to the Sitz baths in the hospital and found they helped a lot with the soreness. His other injuries had healed nicely and only the psychological trauma remained. They had periodically sent someone up to his room when he was in the hospital to get him to talk about it, but he'd told them, none too nicely, to get the hell out!

Since he was the only one who could identify the men who'd victimized him, he figured he had the best chance to find them. Working without someone watching his back was dangerous, but he couldn't be around Hutch right now. He knew he'd done nothing wrong, but his emotions were muddled and he felt shame, as if it were somehow his fault.

His first step was to go back to the bar where he'd met Chartreuse. Evidently, the grapevine ran deep, because everyone turned and stared at him as he walked in. He took a booth, but no one waited on him, so he moved up to the bar and eased himself onto a stool. Still no one came to ask what he wanted.

"Hey, can I get some service down here?" He raised his voice.

"Depends on what you want serviced, man," the bartender said sarcastically.

"I'd like a beer and open it right here where I can see you," Starsky snarled.

He took a long swallow of the cold beer and enjoyed the feel of it on his parched throat. It had seemed like he couldn't get enough water in the hospital. They said it was a residual effect of the strong drugs he'd been given here in the bar, which were intensified by what he'd been given in the hospital.

"Give me one more."

The bartender popped open another bottle and set it in front of him.

Starsky threw down some cash, took them both and went back to the booth to sit and watch what was going on around him.

He became aware of a presence a few minutes later, and looked up expecting a come-on like he'd gotten from Chartreuse, but it was Hutch.

"How'd you find me?" he demanded.

"Aw, come on, Starsk, where else would you go? If you think I'm going to let you take on five loonies by yourself, you belong in Cabrillo State."

"Back off, Hutch! This is something I've got to do for myself. I don't want your help. Damn!" He tensed up.

"What's wrong?"

"That's one of them right there, that guy in the green silk shirt." The detective started to get up and Hutch pulled him down.

"Wait a minute! He sees you, he'll be gone in a minute and then we'll never get the rest of them. Hang in here a second and maybe we'll get lucky."

Just then the man turned and walked over toward their booth and Hutch made a lunge for his partner, wrapping his arms around him and planting a kiss on his lips. The man kept on going toward the restroom.

Starsky came up swinging. "If that's what you mean by 'getting lucky,' you can forget it!" He rubbed his hand over his mouth. "You didn't have to do that."

"What was I supposed to do? I didn't want him to see you and it is a gay bar after all. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Let's go corner your little friend in the john, shall we? You stay cool, though!"

He was washing his hands and his eyes went wide when he saw who they were. There was nobody else in the room. The detectives flanked him, so he couldn't run.

"Hey, asshole." Starsky grabbed the man by the shirt and brought him up close to his face. "Raped anybody else lately? How about telling us who all your buddies were, or don't you even remember me?"

"What's your problem, pal, I haven't done anything to you!" The man squirmed in Starsky's grasp, obviously frightened, but not willing to admit anything. "You must have me mixed up with someone else."

"Look, you can tell me now or you can talk from a hospital bed; I particularly lean toward the hospital. I remember you vividly. I know what everyone of you look like and it's just a matter of time before I find you all. So save yourself a lot of pain and tell me names and addresses now!" Starsky's fists tightened on the man's shirt collar and his face started to get red. He began to cough.

"Starsk! He can't talk if he's dead, partner. Ease up a little. Let's turn him in to the police and let them deal with him."

"How long do you think they'd hold him, Hutch? He'd have some hotshot lawyer bail him out in a couple hours and the rats would scurry away in all different directions. It's not murder one or anything, you know. Look, man, one more chance, at least tell us where we can find Chartreuse and I'll turn you over to the cops without hurting you."

"Okay, okay, the Sand Dollar, his grandmother owns it. She's in some nursing home now, but they're close, she'll know where he is, I'm sure. I'll give the rest of the names, too, if the cops can give me a deal. I didn't really want to go along with it. I just didn't want to look like a coward. I guess it would have been braver to say no, huh?"

"His grandmother's name wouldn't be Ellen Marsden, would it?" Hutch asked.

"Yes, that's it!"

Starsky let go of the man and he slid down the wall to the floor. He turned away and Hutch walked over and grabbed the cowering man by the chin, making him look in his eyes.

"You messed with my partner, pervert, and I'd like nothing better than to make you feel as violated as you did him, but then, I'm a man and you're not. You're an animal. If that information you promised doesn't get to the police, I'll personally hunt you down and make sure you won't be forcing yourself on anyone ever again!" Hutch let go of the man and left the restroom to call the police. He realized he was shaking all over.

When the police had left with the suspect, whose name turned out to be Thomas Harrow, a two-time loser who'd moved to California recently because he was in big trouble in Tennessee, Hutch went over to his partner, who'd been forced to relive the whole incident as the officers questioned him. Harrow had repeated his willingness to give up his partners in crime for a reduction of charges and was promised his request would at least be given consideration.

Hutch put his arms around his partner and hugged him. Starsky drew back, and for a minute, the blond thought he was going to be rejected. His friend looked him in the eye and smiled.

"You're not going to kiss me again, are you?"

"No, I'm not going to kiss you, moron."

"Good, 'cuz this is the men's room and I think it'd look a little..."

"I'm just glad for you that we're getting these guys! Doesn't it make you feel at least a little better?"

"Just getting one of them helps, but I want 'em all. It's really funny; all roads in this town lead to the Sand Dollar, isn't it?"

"I didn't get a chance to tell you I got a job there, did I? I'm doing my best to learn the fine art of bartending,"

"Hutch, you went in there without backup? You know that place is dangerous!"

"I know you say it's dangerous. We've been through this before. The only evil force there is this Chartreuse and he's going to be neutralized. What do you say we go see his grandmother?"

"I'm with you, partner."

"No more going off on your own, Detective Starsky?"

"Okay, it was stupid, male pride. I should have known you'd understand."

"So do Dobey and Huggy, Starsk, and everyone else that knows about it. There were five of them, for cripe's sake. Even Charles Bronson couldn't have fought off five of them. Cut yourself some slack, buddy."

Ellen Marsden's new home was an old building, somewhat run-down, in need of attention to both it's structure and it's residents. The urine smell hit them and threatened to overpower them as they entered the building.

"Seems like the owner of a place like the Sand Dollar could do better for herself, doesn't it?" Starsky whispered.

"That was my thought, too, partner. Something doesn't add up."

The aide they asked directions from told them that Miss Marsden had suffered a massive stoke and was paralyzed on one side and had lost the ability to communicate, whether by speech, hand gestures or writing.

"That makes things kinda difficult, now, doesn't it?" the dark-haired detective growled.

They visited the nurse's station and Hutch pressed for the name of Miss Marsden's next of kin. After flashing his badge, he was given the name of her only known relative, her grandson, Wendell Garson II, presumably known in other circles as Chartreuse. The only other information they got was that his grandmother had raised him, when his mother deserted him at the age of six.

They went in to see the elderly Miss Marsden, anyway, but they could see that just talking about Wendall was causing an abnormally frightening reaction for her and they were asked in no uncertain terms to leave.

They stopped at the police station and checked on the status of Starsky's case. Thomas Harrow had indeed come through for them, giving the names of all the men involved in the case, including one Wendall Garson II. They had all been brought in for questioning except Garson, who was proving to be elusive.

It was time for Hutch to go to work, but there was nothing he could do to convince Starsky not to go with him.

"I just don't feel safe with you there alone, Hutch. I'll sit in a corner booth and nurse a drink, wander around, make passes at the waitresses, whatever, but I'm not leaving you there by yourself. Anyway, four eyes are better than two. My grandma always used to tell me that when she was looking for one of her needles. Although, I usually ended up sitting on it, in which case, my eyes didn't really help, but you know what I mean. When I was a kid I was always better at losing things than finding them, anyway. I remember one time..."

"Okay, okay," the blond detective chuckled. He knew this was one tactic his partner used to get his way, and that he would just drone on and on until he won. "If you see Garson, though, you keep your cool and melt into the woodwork. Give me some kind of signal and I'll call the police."

"Our best bet to get some information would be to get into the office," Starsky suggested. "Maybe Mikey could be of some help to us there."

"I don't know, Starsk, she and I don't seem to be on the same wave length anymore. I guess I haven't paid enough attention to her lately."

"Well, if I see an opening, I'm going for it. I know this place inside and out. I can probably get in there and browse around without anyone noticing."

"Just be careful, this guy seems like a real psycho. God only knows what he'll do if he's cornered."

"I'll be all right, Blondie. I lied to Dobey. You're cute, I'm careful." Starsky gave him a lop-sided smile.

Hutch went to work behind the bar and Starsky planted himself in a dark corner booth. The place got busy and Hutch was having trouble keeping up with the drink orders from the waitresses. He looked over at one point and noticed that a couple occupied the booth Starsky had been in. He wondered where the fool had gotten himself to, but had to rely on Starsky's common sense, an oxymoron if there ever was one, to keep him out of trouble.

Starsky, having gotten bored with people watching, was prowling the grounds. He knew there was a back door close to the office and his intent was to find out if it was locked or not. It wasn't. He drew his gun and quietly entered, flattening himself against the wall. It was dark and he didn't think there was anyone in the area. It was set apart from the main bar, allowing for maximum privacy. He holstered his gun and continued to the office door. That was locked. Fortunately, the detective knew a lot about picking locks. He was able to open this one in seconds. He entered the office, which consisted of one large room, garishly decorated with red velvet drapes, a chaise lounge and spindly French provincial furnishings. The only other room was a small washroom. There was a massive set of file cabinets along one wall. Considering the size and volume of business the Sand Dollar did, the vast amount of paperwork seemed totally out of proportion. He opened one of the file drawers and was in the process of turning around when he heard a sound behind him. He felt a needle jab him in the neck and just barely registered Mikey's face, before he fell to his knees and then fell flat on his face.

Hutch was starting to get worried. He knew his partner and was sure that Starsky would show himself regularly if he was able to, just so his partner wouldn't "get spooked," as he called it. But he hadn't seen the dark-haired detective for at least three hours and his shift would be over soon and the bar would be closing. He hadn't taken his break, so he asked for one and got it. He first visited the restroom, then the other parts of the place that he couldn't have seen from the main bar. No Starsky. He walked around the building, finding no one on the grounds. That left him at the back door. It was locked. He came back around and walked through the bar like he knew where he was going and got to the office area without anyone stopping him. There was a light on in the office, so he knocked on the door, getting no response. He turned the doorknob and was surprised to feel it give. Just as he opened it, he felt a hand on his shoulder and what he presumed was the barrel of a gun in his back. He was pushed into the room so hard that he fell onto the floor. He looked up to see Garson glaring down at him, with Mikey nervously looking over his shoulder.

"Well, look who decided to join us, Mikey, your little friend. Now we have two playmates. And they're both so delectable. Maybe we'll keep the two of them around for awhile. I haven't had a chance to enjoy the blond's company yet. Let's have the gun, Detective. I've already gotten your partner's." He made a gesture with his hand and Hutch could see Starsky lying behind the desk, not moving.

"What have you done to him, you low-life scum?" He turned his fury on the man, only to have him put the gun to his head and demand that he hand Mikey his weapon. He gave it to her.

"He's all right, just gave him a sample of some of the goodies we deal in here. He's out now, but he'll be going on a trip soon. One he won't come back from, I'm afraid. You, on the other hand, I'm keeping for awhile. You've made sure that all my 'boy toys' are in jail or scared to be around me, so you can fill in for them."

"Mikey, how are you involved in this?" Hutch asked. She seemed to be scared to death of Garson, ashamed to look Hutch in the face.

"She's family, pig, my cousin, and she does whatever she's told, don't you, Mikey? She sure reeled you in, didn't she?" Garson sneered.

Hutch looked over at Starsky, who was beginning to moan. "Can I see if my friend's okay?" he asked.

"Go ahead, you two look so sweet together. If we had more time..."

Hutch crawled over and lifted his partner's head into his lap. "Starsk! Starsky! Come on, you've got to wake up!" No response.

"I gotta make an appearance out there before the bar closes. You hold that gun on them, Mikey, and make sure they don't move a muscle, okay!" Garson left the room.

"Can I get some cold water for his face, Mikey? Maybe that'll wake him up."

"Why should I let you do anything? Char said not to let you move around. I don't care about you anymore. All you wanted to do was hurt my family."

Hutch could see she was in a very fragile state right now and if there were any way for them to get out of this mess, it would be by using her. That wasn't his style, but right now, she was a criminal and his obligation was to his friend and partner.

"Mikey, that's not true. I liked you a lot, I still do. Even before I knew anything about the Sand Dollar. Remember how surprised I was to see you working there? I didn't know you had anything to do with Garson. You're such a nice girl and he's really mean. How could I think you were even related?" He let Starsky's head roll back onto the carpet and started inching closer to the girl, who looked like she was wavering.

"He hurt my aunt, you know, she raised us like brother and sister and then he started being mean to her. Now she's in a nursing home and he won't let me go see her. I saw him get her really upset, then she fell and they came and got her and I haven't seen her since."

"I could take you to see her, Mikey, we could go right now. You have to get away from Garson before he hurts you, too. You haven't done anything wrong yet. Stop all this before it's too late."

"Honest, Hutch, can I do that?"

"Just drop the gun and let me take care of everything, Mikey. You don't want to see my partner die, do you? He hasn't done anything to hurt you, has he?"

"No, he was nice to me at the bar that day I met him. He made me feel like I shouldn't be embarrassed by the way I was dressed. Char already made me give him the 'stuff,' though. He'll really be tripping when he comes to."

"What 'stuff' did he give him, do you know? How's it going to affect him?"

"I don't know exactly. Char sells all kinds of drugs. He has a lot of customers and they all want something different. I don't know what he gave him. I'll put down the gun if you'll take me to see my aunt. She'll fix everything, Hutch, I know she will." Mikey set the gun down in front of her on the desk.

Hutch wasted no time snatching it up. Seconds after he did, Garson burst into the room. Seeing the situation, he grabbed Mikey and held her in front of him, training his gun on her.

"Nice try, pal, now drop the gun again or I will shoot her. She means nothing to me, just dead weight. I'll get rid of her like I did my aunt, if I get a chance."

Garson had said the wrong thing. When she heard that, Mikey started fighting him, grabbing for the gun. It went off during the struggle and she slumped to the floor. The gun flew into a corner of the room. Garson turned and started after it and Hutch shot him. He saw blood spread across his chest and was bending down to see if he had a pulse, when he heard a noise behind him. Starsky was awake and was careening around the room, breaking everything in his path. He headed for the door and was out of the room before Hutch could respond. Fear for his friend ignited him and he rushed after, trying to reach him before he got outside, but he heard a crash and the glass back door was broken into pieces by the time he got there. The building had bright spotlights all around, and he could see Starsky, a bloody mess from the glass, rushing around the corner of the building. Whatever they'd given him had altered him and he seemed to have super-human powers. There was no way Hutch was going to catch up with him. They got around to the front and he could see that his partner was going right for the cliff, just like in his dream. There was no way he could stop what was going to happen, other than shooting him, so he stopped and called his name.

Starsky seemed to slow, then turned to see him standing there.

"Hey, Hutch!" he yelled happily, "I'm gonna fly!" And he turned back toward the drop-off, which was only yards away.

God, please! You've brought us through so many near tragedies. Please, please, don't let it end this way, Hutch prayed.

Hutch was so engrossed in his partner, he didn't hear anything until Garson spoke from somewhere behind him.

"Hey, pig, looks like your friend's gonna take a dive! Don't feel bad, you're goin' with him!" Garson was staggering, but on his feet. He and Hutch shot at the same time. Garson went down, but Hutch was shocked that he wasn't hit. He quickly looked around and saw Starsky just as he fell backward over the cliff, off the edge of the world, just like he'd dreamed it.

"Oh God, no!" Hutch ran up to the edge and looked down. At first he didn't see his partner, but as he searched, he discovered a shelf about halfway down and saw his body lying on it, his leg bent at an angle that could only mean that it was broken.

He ran for the building, checking to make sure Garson was really dead this time, and called for help. He went into the office and discovered that Mikey was also dead. He held her for a short time, until he heard the sirens. She hadn't been bad, just as scared of the psycho that Garson was as his aunt probably had been. She had saved his life, at least, and hadn't deserved to lose hers in the bargain.

Once the paramedics were there, they found there was no way to get down to where Starsky was, so they had to call for a helicopter to air-lift him out. They indicated they would be sending him to LA, so Hutch called Dobey and Huggy and told them to meet him there. He pushed the Torino beyond its limits, swearing he'd never tell his partner, and got there before the helicopter. He found Dobey and Huggy in the waiting room. He had a lot to tell them, so the time went faster than at other times the four of them had gathered here.

The doctor came out of the ER with a puzzled look on his face. He recognized Hutch from previous visits and came toward him.

"How's he doing, Doc?"

"He's in surgery. We'll know more when he comes out. He'd been shot up with some kind of toxic drug. Do you have any idea what it was? We're trying to identify it now."

"I have no idea, but it made him think he could fly. He jumped off that cliff."

"His rescue crew says no. He may have been ready to jump, but he was shot in the shoulder and he fell. If he'd jumped, he would have propelled himself out further and missed the shelf. Getting shot saved his life."

"That bullet was meant for me and Garson missed. Unbelievable! How about his other injuries?"

"He hit his head pretty hard, but he's definitely the most hard-headed individual I've ever met. I don't expect problems, but we can't rule them out. He has a broken clavicle and his right leg is fractured in two places. There's a lot to work on, so he'll be in surgery for awhile. When he's in his room, we'll come and get you."

Hours later, Hutch found himself by another hospital bed, thanking God for another reprieve. It was as if God himself couldn't bear to break them up, but he didn't care to test that theory out.

The drugs in Starsky's system kept him under for a long time. Dobey and Huggy had been there to visit several times before the first signs of stirring came from the dark-haired man. Hutch sat up straight in the chair where he'd been reclining, half dozing.

"Starsk."

His partner opened his eyes, wincing as a sharp pain sliced through the back of his head. He looked around, and then got the most disgusted look on his face.

"Back here again? How much of my life do you think I've spent in hospitals, Hutch? Maybe I could qualify for the Guinness Book of Records."

Hutch chuckled. "I doubt that, buddy, but you've sure seen more than your share."

"What am I doing here this time, Hutch? I don't remember anything besides a needle in my neck."

"You know that dream you had? Every bit of it happened, just like you said." Hutch waited for the inevitable.

"Ha, I told you so! I knew it! But why ain't I flying with the angels, instead of lying here in this dang hospital?"

"Flying's the word, Starsk. You were going to try and fly off that cliff when Garson shot you in the shoulder. You fell and hit on a shelf about halfway down. If you'd have jumped, you'd be dead now. The thing is that he was aiming for me."

"Garson?"

"He's dead, partner, he can't molest anybody ever again."

"Mikey? I remember her being there."

"She's gone, too. Saved both our sorry lives in the process. And that's all you need to know right now. You've got two very anxious black brothers ready to break down the door to see if you're really all right."

Starsky grinned around a yawn. "Send them in, then."

"How's it going', my man." Huggy brought the traditional bag of burgers concealed under his coat.

Dobey was more conservative, bringing a big bowl of fruit. "Starsky, next time you want to fly, let me know and I'll sign you up for parachute maneuvers. And with all this hospital time you're getting, I got it figured out that I own your sorry butt without vacation pay for the next two years."

"Gee, thanks, Cap'n, you really know how to cheer up a wounded officer." Starsky heaved a big sigh.

"Well, I've got something that'll make you feel better, " Dobey hastened to say.

"Yeah, what?"

Dobey went to the door and held it open for a tall, dark, distinguished looking man.

"This is James Clark, police commissioner of the Oceanside area. When they were going through Garson's files and the papers he had in his home, they discovered something. He had a lover from Venice beach area, who was killed by a bunch of gay-bashers about six months ago. We discovered a journal, in which he wrote about each of the sand dollar murders, admitting to being the killer. It seems his partner was tall, blond, and good-looking. From his journals, it appears by killing them humanely and laying their bodies to rest on the beach, he felt he was protecting men who fit that description from those who wanted to hurt them because they were gay." He looked at Starsky. "He felt you rejected him, labeled you as homophobic, which precipitated the attack on you." Commissioner Clark shook both detectives hands and thanked them for their courage and bravery in solving these cases. Dobey added there would probably be a commendation in the works for them, too.

When Starsky began to tire, Huggy ruffled his hair. "You need your rest, curly, we'll be around. Glad you're okay," he said softly.

"We'll talk later," Dobey said, taking a couple of oranges with him.

"Just me and thee, together again, huh, partner?" Hutch whispered as they left.

"Yup, just me and thee, forever together. Along with a lot of PAIN! Can you see if they can do something about that, Hutch?"

Hutch called for a nurse.

"Starsk, if I told you I was beginning to believe in God, what would you say?"

"I'd say you're on the right track. He's up there and He's watching over us. He cares, Hutch, and He wants us to be together. When I get out of here, want to go to tabernacle with me?"

"Yeah, I think I would. I need to thank somebody for what we've got here."

Starsky was beginning to drift off. There was no time for a theological discussion. There would be time to talk later. He hoped that child-like faith his partner had was contagious.

The nurse came in and injected some medication in Starsky's IV line. Seeing that he seemed to be asleep, Hutch bent down and placed the lightest of kisses on his friend's forehead. He whispered, "I love you, partner."

Without opening his eyes, the reply came, "I love you, too, pal, but this kissing's gotta stop. People are gonna start talkin'." He began to snore softly.

Hutch smiled and sat back down in the chair to watch over his friend.

THE END