Shadows

By M. Willow

Chapter Two

It hadn’t taken much for Dobey to agree.  One look at the forlorn blond and his partner told him just how shaken his detective was.  In short order, Starsky had taken the blond home and helped him pack.  He’d packed the few things he’d need for the trip in one suitcase and they were off.

Now they sat on the airplane, Starsky looking at his partner with concern.  Starsky noted the dark circles under the eyes, the tense set of his body, and the worried expression on his face.  Hutch was scared and he didn’t know why.  It scared him too.  He didn’t know what they were walking into and he needed that information to protect his fragile partner.

Hutch had been quiet since they’d agreed to go together.  He would be there for his partner until the day before the reading of the will.  It was strange.  He had never met Hutch’s parents.  Now it seemed he never would.  Hutch had explicitly told him that if he had to face his parents again, he needed to do it alone.  Yet when had they ever needed to do anything along?  Still, it had strengthened the blond to have Starsky there for the first part of the trip. He’d said that on the way to the airport, admitting just how much this trip worried him.  “Worry” his exact word.   And it puzzled Starsky.  Still, he knew the blond wasn’t ready to talk.  All he could do was be there for him.

Hutch tried to relax as he flew towards an uncertain future. Things were so muddled in his mind.  He was headed home to a life he thought he’d left behind.  He felt the bile rise in his throat.  Just as quickly he felt his partner touch his hand and the feeling abated.  Starsky was all that was holding him together now.  This trip scared him, made him feel shaky, like he was expecting something to happen.  It was strange, the way he felt, the sense of foreboding, the terror that stroked its icy finger down his spine.  He shivered and Starsky laced his hand through his.  It was his lifeline.

“Thanks buddy,” he said with a shaky voice, his eyes scanning the horizon as they flew toward Duluth. “I don’t think I could do this without you here.”

“Just remember Hutch, me and thee always.  You ain’t never gonna be alone.”

His partner tightened the grip on his hand, sealing the bond.  Just then an attractive blonde stewardess walked by and stared when she noticed they were holding hands. Starsky looked at her, but never released his grip. 

“Stewardess, can you bring my friend a brandy?” he asked.

She smiled, her eyes riveted on their interlocked hands. “Sure, I’ll be right back,” she stammered and walked away.

Hutch laughed.  “You know what she’s thinking, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I guess I can forget getting her telephone number, Blondie.”

“I think I can safely say that I’m probably the only blond you’re going to be spending time with on this flight.”

“Oh well, I could do worse,” his partner joked.  Hutch was happy with the easy banter that passed between them.  For a moment he was allowed to imagine it was just an ordinary day and they were merely taking a trip.  It just seemed so normal—for a moment. 

The stewardess returned with the drink.  Hutch drank it quickly, feeling the warmth spreading through his body, relaxing him immediately.  He slept through the rest of the trip, Starsky still clasping his hand.

The bright morning sun of Duluth cast a hazy glow on the city as the detectives drove to the sleepy town of Willowing Meadows.  The town, so named for the plethora of Weeping Willow trees that lined the streets, was home to many millionaires.  Hutch’s uncle had settled in the town after marrying Minerva.  His uncle had been rich before the marriage, but afterwards, his wealth had been staggering, making Hutch’s father seethe with jealousy every time he saw his brother.

“That’s Mabel Grant’s house over there,” Hutch said, giving Starsky a makeshift tour as they drove through town.  “I use to go over there for milk and cookies sometimes.”

“Impressive,” the brunet said as the rental Ford drove down a street filled with mansions.

Starsky eyed the Grant house, huge with its spectacular array of stained glass windows.  He looked at each of the houses as he drove.  Some were inspired by the great homes of Europe.  Some where built by famous architects of the early twentieth century.  All were spectacular and unique in their own right.  All were worth millions. 

“That house over there is a reproduction of a Tuscan Villa.”

“Wow, didn’t know we had things like that in America.  Must’ve’ cost a small fortune.”

“Nothing small about it.” Hutch said, eyeing the homes.  “God, it seems like a lifetime ago.”

Starsky spared him a glance.  Hutch had seemed relaxed when he’d awakened on the airplane, but now the tension was returning.  Every mile that brought him closer to Lamb House, the tenser he became.  Even now, Starsky could see the quick movements, the almost imperceptible to anyone but him tension in the tall body.  Hutch was scared, but he’d be damned if he could figure out what was spooking his friend.

“You okay, babe?” he said quietly, laying a comforting hand on his friend’s knee, steering the car with the other hand.

“Yeah,” Hutch answered, but his voice held no conviction.

“So here we are.  Just turn in here” Hutch said as they approached the driveway of a grey, brick mansion.

The house looked like a European cathedral.  Hutch had explained that his aunt’s family had the home built in the 1860s, fashioning it in the gothic style which was popular at the time.  Starsky looked at the the flying buttresses, the three towers grey against the clear, blue skies, and the gargoyles at the front of the house.  It gave him the creeps.  It reminded him of the haunted house movies he saw as a child.

Starsky had never seen a house this large, at least not in person.  His partner had told him that the mansion had over seventy rooms and occupied over 70,000 sq ft of living space.  He couldn’t imagine how many acres it sat on.  Starsky figured there must be a hundreds of servants just to maintain the property.   He hoped there would be a cook among the servants.  He was already hungry and Hutch didn’t look in any condition to look for restaurants.

“Kelly said the place has a caretaker, an older married couple.  I haven’t seen them in years…not in years,” Hutch said, his voice trailing off.  “They must be older than my aunt, but then I suppose that’s because I was so young.  I thought twenty was old.”

Starsky laughed then stopped the car in front of the mansion.  “Gonna be alright, Hutch.  You’ll see.  In no time at all this will be over.”

“I hope so,” Hutch said, regret tingeing his words.  

They got out of the car, each stretching after the long drive.  Starsky took a deep breath.  The air felt unnaturally clean, free of smog.  It was a cool October day with plenty of sunshine, birds flying between trees, and a pond with swans moving languishly in clear, blue waters.  By all accounts it was a beautiful day, but as he looked at the house he felt a sense of foreboding, that something was waiting, something dark and sinister.  He could almost picture a figure standing by the window, an evil glint in his eyes as he waited for them to enter the house.  A chill went through his body.

“You okay, Starsk,” Hutch asked, sitting the luggage on the ground next to him.  It was just like his partner to notice the slightest change in his mood.

“Yeah, come on, let’s get going,” Starsky grabbed his suitcase and headed up the stairs, Hutch following.

“Lamb was my aunt’s maiden name,” Hutch said as he pressed the doorbell. “Lamb House was built by her grandfather.  My uncle wanted to change the name once they got married and settled here, but she wouldn’t hear of it.  Said it was terrible how women were expected to change everything about themselves once they got married, but no way was she changing the name of the family home.  She was a liberated woman before it became fashionable

It was hard for the brunet to reconcile this house to Hutch’s past.  He always knew he had a rich family, but he thought it was more like the upper middle class people he went to school with.  Those kids always wore the best clothes, drove expensive cars, and always had lunch money.  Those kids didn’t have to go to war because their daddies got them out of it. They were affluent, but nobody was going to put them in a magazine and talk about how they made their first million. 

On the ride over, Hutch had confided to him just how rich his family was.  It was a surprise.  His dad had been featured in Forbes magazine.  His family owned a huge conglomerate that dealt in anything that made money.  Hutch was rich, rich like Rockefeller.  Rich like the Vanderbilts. Rich like he wasn’t.  Starsky wondered how Hutch could walk away from all this.  He wasn’t so sure he could.  He had been poor growing up.  Wondering where he was going to find his next meal.  Watching his mother work two jobs just to support them. 

He’d had a taste of the good life by joining gangs, and pulling off small crimes.  That is until his mom found out and told him she wouldn’t have him dirty the memory of his dad by ending up in jail.  In no time flat he’d found himself on a plane heading to his aunt and uncle in Los Angeles.  The rest was history.

Now, he was walking into a mansion with his best friend and wondering how a poor kid from New York ended up with a rich kid from Minnesota as a best friend. Life was indeed funny.

Starsky was lost in thought when Hutch suddenly turned and looked at him seriously. 

“Starsk, I don’t want this to change what we have.”  He said, his voice low.

Starsky smiled.  “Why would you think that, Blondie?”

Hutch spread his hands, “Because of all this.  Because my aunt might have left me millions.  Because even if she didn’t I’ve got enough money in my trust fund from my grandfather to stop working.  Because, I’ve spent most of my life hiding that fact and now I can’t.  Not with you.  Not ever again.”

Starsky touched Hutch’s shoulder.

“I can’t pretend that I understand how you can walk away from all this.  But know this.  Your money is not gonna change how I feel about you.  I love you like a brother.  Even more than my own flesh and blood.  I don’t care if you have millions or billions or only the clothes on your back.  Nothin’ is ever gonna change between us.”

Hutch gave a sigh of relief and Starsky could see some of the tension leave his body.

“You know I never touch that money. “I know my grandfather wanted me to have it, but I just don’t want anything with the Hutchinson name on it.”

Hutch turned and rung the bell again.  “Okay.  Well let’s get this done.” 

Mrs. Clydestone was a dour woman of about sixty who spoke with a crisp, British accent.  She probably would have been described as handsome at one time, but now the years had taken there toil, leaving deep lines in her face.  She wore her hair in a tight bun which gave her brown eyes a severe look.  She reminded Starsky of the housekeeper in the movie ‘Rebecca’. She didn’t smile, just rested her eyes on Hutch every now and then as she climbed the long staircase that lead to their rooms.

Hutch was quiet.  He said nothing as they climbed up the long staircase.  At one point Starsky was convinced his partner was going to turn around and run, but he continued up the stairs. 

Now they were in the hall standing between their two rooms and Mrs. Clydestone was speaking.  “I have tidied up your room, Master Kenneth and added some touches your more mature status should find more than sufficient.”

Starsky gave a cursory glance to his surroundings.  He’d imagined the house had once been opulent, filled with furnishings from around the world, filled with glamorous people sipping champagne on cream colored sofas, women dripping with mink and expensive perfume.  He’d imagined the walls were covered with the paintings of the great artist of the world, that expensive china sat on tables.  But now it was a mere shadow of its past glory—the furnishings old and faded, the walls bare.  But, it was the darkness of the house that caused a shiver to run down his spine.  Every corner dark, foreboding, seeming to house a secret horror.  He wondered why they didn’t use electricity, why the candles were the only source of light.  It was like traveling back to the nineteenth century.  He promised himself that he would ask Hutch, but then he saw the haunted look in his partner’s face and knew he had more to worry about than discovering why an old woman had died in a dark house.

He heard Mrs. Clydestone speak and almost jumped out of his skin. 

“Mr. Clydestone is too ill to care for the place so I’ve hired a few people that will assist in the running of the house while you’re here.  You will not see them, but your meals will be prepared and the place kept reasonably warm.  I shall of course supervise everything.”

 “I hope Mr. Clydestone will recover.  Is there anything I can do?  Anything you need?” Hutch asked.

“No, Master.  He is dying you see.”

Hutch looked uncomfortable, clearing his throat before he spoke.  “Okay, just tell me if you need anything.”

The woman bowed her head.  “Of course, Master Kenneth,” she turned to leave.

“Oh, Mrs. Clydestone, would you mind calling me Ken.  Somehow Master Kenneth makes me feel uncomfortable.”

Again the lady bowed her head.  “Of course…Ken,” Starsky could still hear the word ‘master’ in her voice.  She turned leaving the two detectives standing in the hall.

“Well, Gordo, I’m going to lie down for a while.” Hutch rubbed his head tiredly.  “Got a headache coming on.”

Starsky touched Hutch’s forehead, feeling for a fever, finding none he looked at the blond with concern.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just tired,” he sighed.  “Long trip.  Jet lag. Nothing a few hours sleep won’t fix.”

Hutch entered his room leaving Starsky standing in the hall.  Starsky’s eyes scanned the darkness, then he turned and headed for his room which was thankfully located directly across from Hutch.  He wanted to stay close to the blond, just in case, but for now he was tired, and desperately wanted a hot shower and a nap.  Mrs. Clydestone had told them dinner would be served at six o’clock.  With any luck he would be refreshed enough to enjoy it.

He entered his room, sitting the luggage on the floor.  The room was a surprise.   He had expected it to be dark with a few candles.  Instead he found a fireplace, a king-size four-poster bed and two globed lamps that sat on each side of the bed.  He was glad he didn’t need the candles.  Candlelight made the house seem eerie sort of like when he was a kid and his toys had been transformed into monster every time the lights went out.

Starsky noticed the logs sitting by the fireplace and decided to make a fire. It was cool outside, but the house felt extremely cold.  It was a cold that went to the bone, making him shiver in spite of the warm clothing he wore. 

He made the fire in short order then sat in the overstuffed chair by the fireplace, the warmth lulling him into a restful sleep.  He hoped Hutch was at least trying to relax.  It would do the blond good to get some rest before he undertook the daunting task of making Lamb House presentable enough to sell.

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Hutch lay on the bed, his arm covering his eyes.  He needed to be alone so he had lied to Starsky about the headache and being tired. He was far from being tired.  On the stairs he’d seen a man.  He had been standing there, his arms outstretched.  Hutch had thought it was a servant at first, but as he grew near, the figure had stepped forward.  It looked like a shadow, but that was impossible.  He didn’t see anyone standing anywhere near the thing. 

Mrs. Clydestone and Starsky acted like they didn’t see anything, yet it was standing directly in front of them.  He had nearly turned and run back down the stairs.  Instead he continued to follow Mrs. Clydestone as she rattled off things about the house and when they could expect dinner.  All the time his eyes remained riveted on the figure.  He could almost feel it reaching for him, smothering him with its presence.  And then it had simply vanished like it was never there.  It scared the hell out of him.

Hutch got up and looked at the small bookcase that lined the wall.  He found an old copy of ‘The Taming of the Shrew’, and thought it quite fitting for a house that more than resembled a haunted house.  He remembered how the house looked the first time he had come to Lamb House.  His aunt had been beautiful then, with long blond hair and startling blue eyes that were a shade lighter than his own.  She’d been in her forties, but to the ten year old Ken, she was the woman of his dreams.  He had vowed to marry her someday.

He still remembered the scent of her perfume, the way she used to hug him whenever he came to visit.  He’d been frightened the first night he stayed in the house.  There had been a terrible storm and the power had failed.  He had been in his room, shivering from fright.  She had come to him, offering comfort till the storm ended.  He’d fallen in love with her then in the way only a ten year old boy could fall in love—totally and without question.

Many years later the romantic love he felt for her diminished and she became a mother figure to him.  His romantic feelings had then drifted to another blonde, Sandra Nelson.  He had met her the year her family opened a small store in the neighborhood.  She was beautiful with large green eyes and blond hair that fell in cascading waves around her shoulders.  He was twelve to her thirteen and he was in love.  Of course she thought of him as a child, but that changed one summer day when he kissed her under the tree in the park.  After that they were inseparable.

Hutch could still remember the way she use to sing, the way her eyes lit up whenever they would meet.  But that had been many years ago.  Still, the innocence of that first relationship touched his heart.  He wondered what had become of her.  Hutch finally drifted into the dream world where Sandra existed and he was still a thirteen year old boy.

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Dinner consisted of green beans, rice pilaf, and duck foie gras.  A bit highbrow for Starsky’s taste, but he had to admit it was delicious. 

“Not bad Hutch.” He said as he cut yet another slice of the succulent duck. “You ate like this growing up?” he asked, eyeing his partner. 

Hutch knew Starsky was trying to take his mind off his problems and was grateful for his efforts however ineffective they were.  “Pretty much,” he answered.  “Dad always hired the best chefs.  But you know what I really wanted?” Hutch asked, a smile lighting his sky-blue eyes.

“Desiccated liver?” Starsky said smiling.

“Mush brain, I wanted a plan old roast beef and mashed potatoes.”

“You kiddin’?  You mean you had a chef fixin’ duck foie gras and you wanted meat and potatoes.”

“Yep, just goes to show you.”

Starsky shook his head.  They were sitting in the dining room, thankfully a room that actually used electricity instead of candles.  Hutch couldn’t believe how the place had changed.  His aunt must have fallen on hard times.  He felt ashamed that he had allowed his aunt to spend her last days in the dismal house.  How difficult it must have been for her, considering her past wealth.

Hutch noticed Starsky shiver even though his friend tried to cover quickly.  He met his eyes with concern.  “You okay, Gordo?” 

“I’m okay.  Just this place is so dark, it gives me the….”

“Creeps,” Hutch added.

“Yeah, the creeps.  What’s with this place, Hutch?  No lights and if it wasn’t for the fireplace, I woulda froze.”

Hutch shrugged.  “Beats me.  The last time I was here there were at least forty servants and the place had more lights than you could count.  My aunt was known for extravagance.  She would scour the world for the best and latest in home décor.  There use to be a chandelier that was over this table.  My uncle had some famous paintings hanging all around this room.  I think one of them was a Rembrandt.  There were even rumors that he had some stolen paintings worth millions in a hidden room.”

Starsky’s eyes lit up.  “You mean this place got hidden rooms?”

Hutch laughed.  “You ever hear of an old mansion that didn’t have hidden rooms?”

Starsky looked around as if one of the rooms would suddenly appear.  “You ever find any?”

“Yeah, me and Sandra use to go to one of them and make out.

“Sandra?”

“An old girlfriend.  Haven’t seen her in years.” 

“You gotta show me Hutch.  I want to see the hidden rooms.” He said excitedly, the thought of finding hidden rooms bringing out the child-like qualities that Hutch found both endearing and exasperating at the same time.

“I don’t know if I can remember.  It’s been years.”

“Come on Hutch.  How can you forget?  You said you and this Sandra use to go to one of the rooms and make love.”

“It’s been years, Starsk.  And it was make out.  I was only fourteen you know.”

Starsky smirked, “Never stopped me,”

Hutch chuckled.  “Well, back to the rooms.  We found a quite a few hidden rooms, some of them connecting to other rooms.  Probably one in your room, but who knows.  Could be hundreds in a house this size.”

“How about original blueprints?” Starsky asked enthusiastically.

“If there are any, I never saw them.  Besides, they wouldn’t be hidden if they could be found on a blueprint.”

Starsky looked thoughtful.  “Guess you’re right ‘sides finding ‘em is half the fun.”

Starsky poked his fork into the duck and plopped a small piece in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully.  Hutch waited for the inevitable.  He knew Starsky would talk him into doing a little treasure hunting.  Truthfully, he thought it might even be a fun diversion, but he wasn’t so sure he was willing to take the time for any diversion besides getting out of Lamb House or a least getting Starsky out.

The brunet stared up at him, a smile lighting the cobalt blue eyes.  “So what we got here is a potential treasure.  We’re treasure hunters, Hutch.  Come on.  It’ll be fun.”

 Hutch shook his head.  “Starsk, I don’t want to go on a treasure hunt.”

“Come on.  You said your uncle might have even had some stolen paintings.  It’s your duty as an officer of the law to retrieve them and return them to their rightful owners.”

Hutch shook his head.  “Starsk, you’re amazing.  But I’ve only got a week to hire somebody to fix this place up.  I need to go through my aunts things.  I’ve got to…”

“You’ve gotta take a break,” Starsky added.  “Listen, I can help you with the place.  Can’t be that hard.  All you gotta do is hire somebody.”

“Yeah, after I go through Aunt Minerva’s things.  After I do something with her antiques.”

“Okay.  We do that tomorrow.  Where do’ya want to start?” Starsky asked looking at Hutch expectantly.

Hutch shook his head, but he knew he would give in to the brunet.  He always did.  “Okay, we’re treasure hunters.  But first to the east wing.”

“What’s there?”

“Lots of antiques my aunt treasured.   First thing in the morning we do that, then we’ve got all day to look for hidden rooms.  Deal?” Hutch said, offering his hand.

Starsky reached across the table and shook his partner’s hand.  “Deal.”

 “We’ll go into town tomorrow.  Get some supplies.  The hidden rooms are awfully dark.  We’ll need flashlights, stuff like that.” Hutch said.

“Okay,” Starsky took a bite of the duck.  Hutch could almost see the smile in his eyes.

 TBC