Chapter Four

 

 

“Here’s Starsky’s.” Hutch held up a handful of calendars. “And here’s some for the shop – do not let him get his hands on one of the real ones.”

 

Merle nodded. “I’ll keep ‘em under wraps.”

 

Hutch smiled as he looked at one of the real calendars Merle would be handing out to his customers. The Torino was shiny and sharp on her page, and parked at just the right angle so it wasn't obvious that there were no seats inside. Nobody would know that the wiring wasn’t finished and the engine hadn’t been started yet.

 

They’d had to get the Torino up on a flatbed tow truck and haul it out to the movie lot where he’d taken the other pictures for Merle's calendar. Hutch had really wanted to do the shoot in the Metro parking lot, but too many people there knew the car and he couldn’t risk Starsky finding out.

 

Luckily, the police station on the movie lot was realistic enough and the girl in the uniform was more than pretty enough.  Miss March had a foot up on the gleaming chrome bumper, her ticket book out, her shirt unbuttoned just enough to be enticing, and her short skirt riding up to show a tempting amount of thigh.

 

“I wish we’d had her ready for Christmas, Starskinson.” Merle hung up one of the calendars that had Miss March posed with a black and white police cruiser borrowed from the same film the station was for.

 

“We don’t want to rush perfection, Merle.”

 

“She’ll be ready by the end of January – depending on the upholstery.”

 

“Is there a problem?”

 

“Nah, just hard to find seats for a car her age.” He frowned. “Push comes to shove, we’ll fix what we got and recover ‘em. Rather have a better set – but we’ll make do if we have to.”

 

The seats hadn’t been something Hutch had even considered might be a problem. “The door panels and stuff – are those hard to find, too?”

 

“Nah, not too much.” The older man assured him. “Somethin’ like that is easier to get your hands on. Lots of models use the same door panels and headliners and such.”

 

Hutch had stopped questioning what Merle needed to get and how much it cost. He was making a comfortable amount with his photography, one job seeming to lead to another. Merle wouldn’t cheat him, and he knew what Starsky would and wouldn’t want done.

 

“Do what you think is best, Merle.” He checked his watch. “I’ve got to get back; I’ve got an afternoon full of patients to see.”

 

“Be here tomorrow afternoon.”

 

“For what?” The Torino wasn’t going to have anything major done tomorrow that he knew of.

 

“Just be here at noon.” Merle smiled mysteriously. “Now go on – get outta my garage, I got work to do.”

 

“I’m going – I’m going!” Hutch walked out of the garage, wondering what Merle had up his sleeve this time.

 

 

    

 

 

The phone rang, and Hutch looked up from the proof sheet of the shots he’d taken of Marie’s car. Starsky was totally engrossed in his video game. “You want me to get that?”

 

Starsky grunted, occupied with chasing a green mushroom across the TV screen.

 

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He reached across Starsky and picked the phone up off the arm of the couch, ignoring the frantic yelp. “Hello, Bay City funny farm, head nurse here.”

 

“Starskinson?”

 

“Yeah.” Setting his book aside, Hutch got up and walked across the living room and as far down the hall as the cord would allow. “Merle?”

 

“Hey – I’m at the Police auction!” Merle was shouting over the noise of the auction. “You won’t believe what I found!”

 

“What?” You could find anything at one of those things. Starsky had once bought a mailbox and a wooden horse at one.

 

“A 1974 Gran Torino! In prime shape!”

 

“Wonderful. What does that have to do with me?” He peered around the corner, but Starsky was still safely involved with his game.

 

“We can use the seats – the door panels – the dashboard – “

 

“The dash?” Hutch leaned against the wall. “Didn’t you just put all the wiring in?”

 

“We ain’t run the wires inside yet. Didn’t have a dash.”

 

“Oh, okay, well good.” Why Merle was telling him this was beyond him, but the old guy was a genius and they were generally within walking distance of crazy.

 

“Good? Good? It’s fantastic!” There was an impatient sound. “We’ve got all the pieces I’ve been scrounging for – plus extra body parts if Starsky ever needs ‘em!”

 

That did sound like a good deal. “How much is it?”

 

“I got it for a grand.”

 

“A grand?” The phone slipped out of his fingers and Hutch barely caught it before it hit the floor. “A thousand dollars?”

 

“Yeah – this car’s damn near cherry, I tell you.”

 

“A thousand dollars?” He repeated.

 

“Relax, Starskinson – I’m splittin’ it with you. I can use the motor and transmission – ”

 

“Five hundred dollars is still a lot of money, Merle.” Rubbing his hand over his face, Hutch wondered if he had enough in his account to cover that. His photography was bringing in more money than he’d thought possible, but five hundred was going to hurt.

 

“That’s all right – ‘cos I got you some customers lined up.” The older man cackled.

 

“Customers?”

 

“Crazy Frank wants you do make his calendars. He’s been giving out Norman Rockwells – the last batch was just too sleazy!”

 

Sleazy Norman Rockwell? Hutch risked another peek at Starsky still playing his game. “It’s after Christmas – I can’t get him a calendar before the first of the year.”

 

“He knows that – he said he’s willing to take ‘em whenever you can get ‘em done. He’ll supply the bikes – you just bring the girls.”

 

Great, now I sound like a pimp. “Models, Merle, they’re models.”

 

“And he wants you to take some of your pictures of a bike he’s gonna restore – some old thirties thing – and the guy who’s got that little Mustang I been working on – he wants pictures like you’re taking for the lady with the Camaro.”

 

“That’s great.” That would cover the cost of the car and then some. A sound from the living room made Hutch jump. “Get their numbers and tell them I’ll call them tomorrow.”

 

“Hutch, hey, I need help with this level!” Starsky called from the other room. “Tell her you’ll call her back!”

 

“Merle, I’ll call you tomorrow.” Hutch hung the phone up before Merle could answer.

 

Walking back to the living room, he sat down on the sofa next to Starsky. The game was paused, and Starsky was paging through a magazine.

 

“Hey, help me here.” He handed the magazine over. “I beat the last level, but this one has me stumped.”

 

“Starsky, I’m busy.” Hutch tossed the magazine down. “If I was going to read, it’d be a real book, without pictures of Italian plumbers.”

 

“You got a problem with Italians? I’ll be sure and tell Ma.” Picking the magazine up, he found the right page again. “Come on, just help me out a little.”

 

“I’m not playing this game, you are.” Hutch took the magazine from him. He wouldn’t admit it to Starsky, but he did enjoy watching the different obstacles that the little guy in the red overalls had to go through. “And this is cheating.”

 

“It is not!”

 

“A magazine that shows where all the hidden prizes are and how to beat the bad guys – “ He smacked his hand on the page. “That’s cheating.”

 

“Look, I’ve tried to get through it four times now. And I can’t even get halfway through. Come on, help me out, huh?”

 

“Starsky…” Looking up, he saw Starsky giving him his patented little boy look. “All right, all right. “

 

“Thank you.” Grinning, Starsky picked up the game controller and hit the pause button to start the game again. “I’m good ‘till I hit the hanging vines. They move up and down and I keep falling off.”

 

“One of these days, Starsk, you’re gonna run out of charm.”

 

“Never happen.” He leaned into Hutch, nudging his shoulder. “Never happen.”

 

 

    

 

 

A little before noon the next day, Hutch walked into Merle's garage. At the far end, a blue Torino was sitting in the bay next to Starsky’s Torino.

 

He had to admit, the car was in damn good shape given that it was almost twenty years old. There were a few dents and dings, and some rust on the back fenders, but overall the car was in near mint condition.

 

“Hey, Starskinson!” Merle waved him over. “Come here, you got work to do!”

 

“I can see that.” Pulling his camera out of the bag, Hutch double checked the settings. “Is this our sacrificial victim?”

 

“This is it.” The other man nodded. “Ain’t took nothin’ out yet – figured you’d want pictures.”

 

“Thanks, Merle.” The interior looked good, too. The seats were barely worn – though Hutch knew Merle intended to recover them at any rate.

 

“Come on over here.”

 

“Just a sec.” He snapped a couple of shots of the interior before walking to where Merle and the others were standing around Starsky’s car.

 

“Get in.” Merle opened the door for him.

 

“Get in?” Hutch looked inside the car. There was a stool sitting where the driver’s seat should be. “There’s no seats.”

 

“Just get in.” The other man took the camera from him. “You got a job to do.”

 

Getting into the Torino, Hutch sat down carefully on the stool. The dashboard was gone and the steering wheel stuck out from a mass of wires.

 

“Go on, start her up.”

 

“What?” He looked up and saw that Merle was serious. “Oh, no, not me.” When he started to climb out, Merle closed the car door. “I can’t start it – there’s no – no – nothing!”

 

“There’s a key – “ Merle reached over the side of the steering wheel to point it out. “And there’s an oil gauge and tach wired up.”

 

Hutch hadn’t noticed the small set of gauges sitting on the steering column. “Is it going to start – shouldn’t you be doing this?”

 

“It should and no – you’re the one should be doing this.”

 

“I – I – don’t think – “

 

“It’s all right, Starskinson.” Merle patted his shoulder. “I’m right here if there’s a problem. Come on, turn her over.”

 

“We really should let Starsky do this.” Hutch’s hand shook as he reached for the key.

 

“Pump her three – four times and then hold it down.” He instructed. “The carburetor needs primed.”

 

Pumping the gas pedal a few times, Hutch pressed it to the floorboard and turned the key. The motor growled but didn’t turn over.

 

“Just a sec – “ Merle told him. “Anthony! Prime the carburetor!”

 

Hutch waited while Anthony poured a small amount of gas into the carburetor. Merle nodded, and Hutch pumped the gas twice before holding it to the floor as he turned the key.

 

The engine roared to life, flames belching up and out of the carburetor before being sucked back down into the engine. Hutch grinned and let up on the gas. “We did it!”

 

Even as he said it, the engine sputtered and died before he could give it more gas. “Damn!”

 

“Almost got it, Starskinson!”

 

“One more time, Merle.” This was one thing Hutch knew about when it came to cars. His Galaxy and the LTDs had all been cold natured as hell.

 

“Come on, baby.” He pumped the pedal again as he turned the key. Once more the engine roared to life, only this time he held the pedal down, coaxing her to keep running until she’d burned off the excess gas and warmed up.

 

After a minute, Hutch was able to ease off on the gas until finally he had his foot off the pedal. “We did it, Merle! We did it!”

 

“It’s looking good.” Merle was leaning in and peering at the gauges. “Oil’s good – she’s idling too damn fast.”

 

Under the hood, Anthony and another mechanic tweaked and tooled until the Torino settled into a slow, smooth idle.

 

“My camera – I need my camera!” Hutch leaned out the window. “I need to get this!”

 

It was tricky, leaning back on the stool and focusing the camera on the gauges perched on the steering column, but he managed to get the shot he wanted, plus a couple extra just in case.

 

“Give her some juice, boy!”

 

Handing the camera back out to Merle, Hutch revved the engine, smiling as the car rocked slightly. He revved the motor several times, remembering how he used to bitch at Starsky for polluting the air.

 

“Let her idle!” Merle shouted at him.

 

He lifted his foot off the gas pedal and the motor dropped back to a smooth, idling purr. Hutch ran his fingers over the steering wheel. It was worn and scarred from use. How many times had Starsky run his fingers over it? Thousands? I love this car, Hutch. I wanna marry it and have its children.

 

Tears burned his eyes unexpectedly, and Hutch ducked his head down to wipe at his eyes. I’m not crying over this damn car! I’m forty seven years old – not some snot nosed little boy! He wiped at his eyes again. I’m not crying over a car I don’t even like!

 

“Come on outta there, Starskinson.” Merle opened the door. “Leave her running.”

 

Getting out, Hutch took his camera back, avoiding looking straight at the other man.

 

“Gas fumes.”

 

“What?” He turned to see that Merle was wiping at his own eyes with a handkerchief.

 

“Gas fumes. Makes your eyes water.”

 

“Yeah.” He smiled as he realized the other man was feeling just as sentimental over this striped hunk of junk as he was. “Gas fumes.”

 

Merle got inside the Torino and gently revved the motor while the others made adjustments. Hutch moved around them, snapping pictures. He was going to have more than he could ever use, but what the heck?

 

Shutting the car off, Merle climbed out and shut the door. “We’ll get the wiring done and the seats in – then we’ll take her out on the street.”

 

“Just give me a call.” He put his camera back in the leather bag. “I’ll make sure Starsky is too busy to be anywhere he can see it.”

 

“You’re gonna have to be here.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Starskinson – you’re the only one besides me and Starsky who know this car.” Merle poked him in the chest. “You have to be here.”

 

“I need to be here to take the pictures anyway, I guess.” Hutch rubbed his chest. “I’ll get Huggy to keep him out of our hair.”

 

 

    

 

 

“Huggy, I gotta go.”

 

“Wait a minute.” Huggy grabbed the book again. “How about a Thunderbird? I’d look good in a T-bird.”

 

“No.” Starsky jerked the book out of Huggy’s hands. “You’re a Cadillac kind of guy anyway.”

 

“I am! I’m a Cadillac man!” He nodded enthusiastically. “Let’s look at Cadillacs – you got a book on Caddies?”

 

“Yes, I have a book on Caddies, and no, you can’t see it.” Standing up, Starsky tossed the Ford book on his desk. “It’s time for me to go home. Get out!”

 

“Get out?” Huggy jumped up and blocked the way to the door. “Get out? Is that any way to talk to a customer?”

 

“You’re not a customer! You’re a pest!” Starsky walked up to stand nose to nose with Huggy, staring at him for a minute. Huggy’s eyes darted to the left and right but never looked directly at him. “You’re up to something.”

 

“Me?” Huggy opened his eyes wide, doing his best Innocent Bear look. “What would I be up to?”

 

“The thought terrifies me.”

 

“I’m here to buy a car.” He shrugged dramatically. “Thought I’d come to my good friend to get it.”

 

“Bull.” Starsky thumped him on the chest. “You just got a car from me last year – no, not even a year ago. Now you’re saying you want a new one?”

 

“Uh…”

 

“You love that car. Your Christmas cards had pictures of you in that car.” He pushed Huggy out the door and shut the light off. “I’m going home and having dinner. I’m hungry.”

 

“Dinner?”

 

“Dinner.” Starsky closed the door, making sure it was locked. “Which I have to pick up ‘cos Hutch has some photo thing he’s doing, and he was supposed to cook tonight.”

 

“Uh… dinner…” Huggy scrambled to keep up with Starsky as he walked across the showroom. “Dinner! Hey, come on down to my place and eat!”

 

“Nah, already got my mind set on Chinese.” He waved at the other salesmen as he walked outside.

 

“Chinese? Forget Chinese.” Rushing after Starsky, Huggy tried to get in front of him. “You need a Huggy special.”

 

“I’m in the mood for lo mein.” Shaking his head, he pulled out his car keys. “You’re acting very weird, Huggy.”

 

“On the house.” He grabbed Starsky’s arm. “I’ll drive.”

 

“What the hell is the matter with you?” Starsky pulled his arm free. “You’re offering food on the house? You got a fever or something?”

 

“I’m just a friend wanting to have dinner with a friend – is that so wrong?”

 

“Huggy, go home.” Sliding into the driver’s seat, Starsky shut the car door. “I gotta go. Those egg foos of Hutch’s get soggy if they sit too long.”

 

“Starsky! Starsky!” Huggy watched the Mustang pull away. “Damn it!”

 

Running back inside, he grabbed a phone off the first desk he came to. He ignored the startled salesman as he dialed. “Anthony? Huggy – are they back?”

 

Huggy blew out a relieved sigh. “Good, ‘cos Starsky’s on the loose. He’s grabbing dinner on the way home and I don’t know where he’s going to get it.”

 

“What?” Huggy frowned. “Chinese – what’s it matter? The tomato is in the garage, and the Bear is on his way home.” Hanging up the phone, Huggy walked out of the showroom.

 

 

    

 

 

“I’d forgotten how people stared at this thing.”

 

“Of course they stared, Starskinson.” Merle ran a rag over the Torino’s fender, patting it lovingly. “This baby is a thing of beauty.”

 

“That’s one word for it.” Hutch leaned out the car window and grinned at him. “She does look a hundred times better than she did when I found her.”

 

“A hundred? A thousand maybe!” He polished the fender again. “Hell – a million! Pop the hood!”

 

Obediently, Hutch reached down and pulled the hood release. Merle and Anthony had the hood up and were making adjustments in moments.

 

He leaned back, settling into the leather upholstery. The Torino looked brand new, as if she’d just rolled off the showroom floor. The seats, door panels, even the carpet was new.

 

The day Starsky had first driven up in the outrageously painted car, it had looked exactly the same. Only the scarred and worn steering wheel looked out of place.

 

“I’m sorry he couldn’t drive you this first time.” Hutch ran his hands around the wheel as he’d seen Starsky do countless times. “Great, now I’m talking to his car.”

 

“Shut her off!” Merle hollered at him.

 

Hutch turned the key off and got out. “Is she ready?”

 

“Damn near.” The other man grinned. “She needs to go out and run – get the rings seated and make sure she’ll take the high speed. You know Starsky won’t be drivin’ like an old woman.”

 

“You’ve never ridden with his mother.” Hutch picked up his camera bag. “This weekend I’ve got a shoot set up in San Diego. Starsky is coming along to help.”

 

“Meaning he’s gonna be looking at the girls while you work?”

 

“When he’s not lounging by the pool or on the beach.” Chuckling, Hutch headed out of the garage. “We’re leaving Friday night, and we won’t be back until Sunday night.”

 

“That’ll work.” Merle nodded as he followed Hutch outside. “We can take her to the speedway for a run or two, make sure she’s ready.”

 

“Too bad Starsky’s birthday isn’t next week.”

 

“You could give him the car a little early.”

 

“I could…” Hutch thought about it for a moment. Starsky was going to go crazy no matter when he got the Torino. But it would be so much sweeter to give him the car on his birthday. “No. It’s just a month and a half. Let’s stick with the plan.”

 

“You’re the boss, Starskinson.”

 

“Remember that the next time I tell you I just need an oil change and nothing else, will you?”

 

“Get outta here!” Merle closed the car door for Hutch as he got into his car. “Anthony said Starsky is on his way home with Chinese food.”

 

“Looks like I won’t have to cook dinner at least.” He reached out and offered his hand to Merle. “Thanks.”

 

“Ah, it was nothin’ – “ The mechanic shook his hand. “The love of a man and his car – it’s a pure thing.”

 

Hutch’s eyebrows went up. The love of a man and his car? Oh, brother. “You, ah, got somewhere to keep her hidden?”

 

“Yeah, got a spot in my garage. That way I know she’s safe every night.”

 

He smiled at that. “Good night, Merle.”

 

“Night, Starskinson.”

 

 

On the drive home, Hutch ran down a list of things to do now that the Torino was essentially finished. “Sort the pictures… need a photo album… a cake. Can I get a cake with a car on it? Can I get a Torino on it?”

 

Parking his car in the garage next to Starsky’s Mustang, Hutch went inside. The smell of food made his mouth water. He’d missed lunch, grabbing a bagel between appointments so that he could take off early and test drive the Torino.

 

“Hey.” Starsky looked up from his book as Hutch walked in. “I was wondering if I needed to send out the Marines.”

 

“Just ran a little late. You got Chinese?”

 

“In the kitchen.” He went back to his book. After Hutch walked away, Starsky looked up again. “How’d you know I got Chinese?”

 

“I – ah…” Hutch hesitated at the kitchen doorway. Crap! “I – ah… I smelled it – Chinese food is very distinctive.”

 

“You shoulda been a detective.” A grin curled Starsky’s mouth.

 

“I tried, but this smartass partner I had got me into too much trouble.” There were cartons of food lined up on the counter, and a paper towel covered plate sat next to them. Lifting the paper towel, Hutch found his egg foo young – egg foos as Starsky called them. They tended to get soggy sitting in the carton, and he always took them out as quickly as possible. “Nobody likes soggy egg foos.”

 

Fixing himself a plate, Hutch went back into the living room. “Thanks for taking them out of the carton.”

 

“They get soggy, I know you don’t like that.” Starsky shrugged.

 

“Did you eat already?”

 

“Yep. I was starving. You know – “ He laid his book down. “The weirdest thing happened today.”

 

“Considering some of the things we’ve seen – that’s a scary thought.”

 

“Huggy came in and wanted to look at cars.”

 

“That’s weird?” Hutch focused his attention on his food.

 

“I just put him in a new Caddy last year, remember?” He picked up his book again. “He goes all over the lot looking at every car we have. And I mean every car. Then he wants to look at all the books on the new cars. Very weird.”

 

“You sell cars – he wants to buy one – sounds perfectly normal to me.”

 

“Now you sound like Huggy.” Starsky frowned as Hutch choked on his food. “Chew, will ya? Everybody is acting weird lately.”

 

“Everybody?” Hutch took a drink of his iced tea to wash down the lump of food. “How?”

 

“Merle acts like he doesn’t want me in his garage. Huggy damn near took me hostage in my office today. And the other day – at Ginger’s – I thought she was gonna have a heart attack when I went digging for some of the older records.” A hurt look crossed his face. “Told me to stay out of the storage rooms.”

 

“Well… I… ah…” He’d been using one of the storage rooms at Ginger’s studio as a makeshift dark room – not wanting to risk Starsky finding shots of the Torino. “You know how – how… uh – women are about closet space.”

 

Starsky stared at him for a minute. Hutch was too interested in his food, and that little stammer that only came out when he was nervous was there. What are you up to?

 

“What?” Hutch looked up to find the sapphire eyes fixed on him. “Want a bite?”

 

“No, I don’t want a bite. I wanna know what’s going on.”

 

“Nothing – nothing’s going on. I’m eating – you’re reading.” He set his plate on the coffee table and grabbed the remote. “Isn’t Tales From The Crypt on tonight?”

 

“You hate that show.” Starsky took the remote from him.

 

“It’s growing on me.” Getting up, Hutch headed for the kitchen. “I need some more fried rice.”

 

Starsky watched him walk away, wondering just what Hutch was up to. “There’s something goin’ on around here.”