Hutch arose early and headed for the Harlow house. The detective had stopped by the station and updated Dobey on the matter. Dobey had been sympathetic, promising to keep the information under his hat while giving Hutch enough time to investigate the matter.

Now, the blond stood on the porch of the large house. He knocked and was greeted by a tired looking dark-haired man. He was a little over six feet with a tuff of unruly hair that reminded him of Starsky’s hair.

Hutch identified himself and discovered that the man he was speaking to was Morgan’s cousin, Roger. He’d explained that Mrs. Harlow had gone out of town on vacation. Hutch was disappointed until Roger said he could probably answer any questions he had.

Now they sat in the dining room at the large table that could seat at least twenty people. Hutch noted that the dining room was larger than his whole house. He glanced around noticing the painting hanging on the wall. Originals more than likely, he thought as he listened to the tall man.

Roger was smoking a cigarette with a far-away look in his eyes. “Morgan killed herself because she had been dumped by a cop. They were set to get married when the guy left town leaving no forwarding address. Just a note that basically said, thanks for the memory. She nearly went crazy after that and the family put her away. Course, they’d never tell you that. Image and all.” He spoke with a southern drawl that didn’t seem to match his appearance.

Hutch was relieved. At least they had the answers to one piece of the puzzle. Morgan had deliberately sought Starsky out in order to kill him because he reminded her of her fiancé.

“Tell me about Morgan. What kind of woman was she?” Hutch asked.

“She was okay. Kinda eccentric by the standards of the Harlow family.”

“What do you mean?” Hutch asked locking eyes with Roger.

“Dabbled in the black arts. Called herself a witch for awhile and then she got into devil worshipping. Family kept it quiet, of course.”

Hutch tried to hide the shock. He’d never believed in the powers of witchcraft or ghost. That was more of Starsky’s domain. Still, was it a coincidence that Starsky was seeing ghost and Morgan dabbled in the black arts?

“Was she a part of a coven?” Hutch asked, still trying to sound professional.

Roger snorted. “Naw, see she had this problem getting along with people. She was strictly a one woman show.”

“What about family. Was she close to anyone? Someone who might be angry about her death?”

Roger looked suspiciously at Hutch. “Why? Something happened?”

Hutch wasn’t about to tell Roger anything. He seemed innocent enough. Still he had been around criminals. He knew a lot of them were very good actors.

“Nothing I’m at liberty to share,” Hutch said, hoping the other man would drop the subject.

“Morgan was never close to anybody in the family. I think people were happy when she died. No more threats to sully the Harlow name. She made most people uncomfortable. Always going on about spells she’d cast and seeing into the future. That sort of junk. Naw, nobody was close to that girl. Even gave me the creeps.”

Anything else you think might be helpful?” Hutch said looking at Roger hopefully. “I mean anything.”

Roger slowly shook his head. “Can’t think of anything.”

Hutch stood handing him his card with the number to the precinct. “If you think of anything, call this number, okay?

Roger took the card, putting it in his pants pocket. “Yeah, if I think of anything.”

The room was cast in a sort of half darkness when Starsky opened his eyes. Thick curtains blocked the sunlight making it seem as if it were evening instead of morning. He had been awake for hours, lying there pretending to sleep, hopeful that he would not doze off. He recalled how he had almost killed his best friend. Nice work he chided himself. Here he was an officer of the law and he had used his gun like some scared civilian.

Starsky sat up and swung his legs to sit on the edge of the bed. Hutch had been afraid. Starsky could see it in his eyes. Hutch was afraid that he was losing his mind. No way did he believe in ghost, but then he hadn’t seen Morgan. Starsky trembled when he thought of Morgan. She was going to torment him until she drove him mad. He was darn close to it now.

Starsky stood on shaky legs. He knew Huggy was in the living room. He had heard him arrive and listened as the dark-skinned man looked in on him every now and again. Starsky smiled to himself. He was not as close to Huggy as he was to Hutch, but he counted him as a dear and close friend. He headed to the kitchen and found Huggy preparing some breakfast.

“Made you some eats,” the dark-skinned man said as he entered.

“Nothing for me,” Starsky smiled.

“Well our curly headed brother is back in the land of the living I see,” Huggy said this then suppressed a grimace as the implication of the statement hit home. He cleared his throat. “Well, I’ve got Dr. Hutch’s orders that says you gotta eat.” He dished up a plate of eggs, laying them on the table. Starsky sat at the table, regarding the eggs warily.

“Got coffee?” he asked hopefully. He wanted to stay awake at all cost. He thought about the past two weeks—coffee had become his breakfast, lunch and dinner. He relied on the reassuring presence of caffeine in his body to keep him awake. He wondered how long he’d be able to stay awake.

The black man turned, retrieved a cup and sat it before Starsky. “Can’t see what you see in this stuff,” he said while pouring a cup of the steaming liquid. “Me and Hutch had some last night. It’s awful.”

Starsky took a sip. “There’s another can on the shelf I just brought. It’s better than this one.”

“Now you tell me,” Huggy said, taking a seat at the table.

Starsky drank the liquid hungrily. He didn’t care how it tasted as long as it kept him awake. He caught the eye of the startled man as he drank. The liquid was hot, too hot, but he hadn’t cared. It was merely a means to an end.

“Huggy, you know anybody that can tell me how to get rid of a ghost.” Starsky tried to sound normal as he asked.

Huggy regarded Starsky with surprise for a moment. Starsky stared down at his cup. “Yeah, I know a girl. Can’t vouch for her though. Just some chick comes in the Pits every now and then. Spooky type, if you get my drift.”

“I need to see her. Think you can get her over here right away.”

Huggy regarded the brunet even longer. “Our white knight ain’t gonna be too happy with a card carrying medium hanging out here. He still believes you’ve been drugged.”

“How Huggy, answer me that. How would somebody be able to give me drugs?” Starsky looked pleadingly at Huggy.

Huggy stood up, “Okay, but don’t blame me for the message.” He picked up the phone and dialed quickly. Starsky released a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

It had been a long day. He’d called Starsky a few times and was told he was resting. Hutch had elected not to disturb his friend. He needed all the rest he could get. Hutch headed towards Starsky’s place. It was late evening and the sun was just going down. He’d spent a full day searching for information about Morgan. Dobey had been helpful, giving him files with background information on the Harlow family. Unfortunately, the files had yielded no new information. Hutch’s attention was riveted to the yellow-orange sky. Everything seemed so normal, but it was not. His best friend was losing his mind. He had to solve this case and solve it quickly. He was tired, but he had no time to rest.

Hutch reached Starsky’s apartment and ran up the stairs two at a time. He entered the apartment using the key his partner had given him. He was shocked to discover that they had a visitor. She was beautiful with dark-brown skin and long braids that reached the middle of her back. She was sitting on the floor along with a very pale Starsky and an uncomfortable Huggy. Huggy gave an apologetic shrug when the blond looked at him.

“What the hell is going on?” Hutch asked, more than a little perturbed.

“This is Angela Russell,” Huggy blurted indicating the woman who merely looked at him. “She’s what they call a medium.”

“I am more than a medium,” Angela corrected. “I have many talents,”

“Listen, Miss…Miss Russell, we don’t need your services…” Hutch started.

“Well, I do. If you don’t wanna hear what she’s gotta say, just leave Hutch.” Starsky said warningly. Starsky seemed anxious for Angela to stay. “Listen, Hutch. You ain’t been through what I have. I want to find a way to get rid of Morgan and if Angela can help, so be it.”

Hutch entered the room and sat next to Starsky. His friend looked tired, past the point of exhaustion. Hutch had doubts about the brunet resting all day. Probably pretended to sleep, he thought sadly. He placed a protective hand on his partner’s shoulder.

“This is not about a ghost. There’s no such thing?” he said quietly.

“Oh yeah, well I don’t want to hear it. I know about your sleep deprivation theory and all that junk about drugs, but I was there. I saw Morgan. Please Hutch…”

Hutch saw the desperation and fear in his partner’s eyes. He closed his eyes for a second and then opened them. “Okay, guess it couldn’t hurt.”

Starsky smiled bringing his attention back to Angela.

The dark-eyed beauty sat looking about the room as she sipped tea. “The dead can come back if they’re strong enough.” She locked eyes with Starsky. “This woman was angry. That makes her even more powerful. She wanted to punish you in life, now she’ll come back to take your life as she wanted. It is her only goal.”

Hutch sighed taking a look at Starsky. Starsky was buying it, Hutch thought. A glimpse at Huggy indicated his belief in Angela also. So Hutch was the skeptic. He believed in psychics, had seen one in action. But ghost, no way. Once you died, that was it. If ghosts existed, surely he and Starsky would have discovered them. They had many enemies among the dead—men they had to kill in the line of duty. Why would a woman who deliberately killed herself want to come back for Strarsky? Why not look for the man she hated in the first place—the fiancé who jilted her.

Hutch cleared his throat, and Angela looked up. “You have something to say, detective Hutchinson?” she asked, her brown eyes locking with his.

“Well, I was just wondering. Why would Morgan come after Starsky? Why not the fiancé?”

Three sets of eyes faced Angela. Hutch was sure she was blushing, but her pecan-colored skin hid all indications of the fact. She sipped her tea thoughtfully. The room was silent for a few minutes and then she spoke, her voice soft, “There are many things that we don’t understand about the other world. I may ask you why she fixated on Starsky in the first place.”

Starsky smiled his cocky attitude in full force in spite of the seriousness of the situation. “Well, there was the attraction,” he said as if stating the obvious.

“No doubt, you are an attractive man, but so is your friend here,” she said indicating Hutch. Hutch felt uncomfortable under her gaze. She looked like she was seeing right through him. She continued, casting her eyes into the teacup as she spoke. “Have you seen a picture of her boyfriend?”

Hutch kicked himself for not asking Roger for one. He had just been so preoccupied with getting back to Starsky. And just maybe, he was bordering on exhaustion too. He hadn’t slept well in the past three days.

“Didn’t think of it.” Hutch said, tiredly rubbing his eyes.

“If you find a picture, he will remind you of Starsky.” Hutch noticed the certainty in her voice. She stood watching all three men, “I also suggest that if you look for this boyfriend, you will not find him. He is dead.”

Starsky tensed, and Hutch moved closer, massaging his neck as he spoke. “How do you know this?”

“It is her way? She wanted to kill you. And you were the one who got a way. She wants to fix that. Look for the fiancé and you will find your common thread.”

Angela gathered her purse and headed for the door. Starsky stood, wavering for a moment. Hutch quickly stood and grabbed his arm, supporting him.

“That’s it? I thought we were going to have a séance or read some tea leaves or something’” Starsky said, clearly perturbed.

“Angela smiled lightly. “There is no need to call her, she is already here.”

“Then how do I get rid of her?” Starsky asked, his voice trembling.

“You must confront her on her own level.”

“How am I gonna do that?” Starsky asked clearly disappointed.

“She will tell you,” Angela smiled ominously and then she was gone.

Hutch waited impatiently for the lab results. He knew they would show positively that Starsky had been drugged. But how, was the question. Starsky was never one to leave a drink unattended and he would have noticed any other form of administration. Hutch looked around the house. Could it be possible that someone had entered and added the drug to something the dark-haired detective drank or ate each day? Hutch decided to collect all of the food items and have them analyzed as well.

Hutch was startled to here a soft knock on the door. He looked around the apartment. It was cast in darkness, with an occasional flash of lightning. Perfect night for a ghost, Starsky had remarked. And it was. The thunder and the tap of rain against the window pane reminded him of one of the haunted house stories on the late show. And now there was the insistent knock at the door. Hutch was glad that Starsky was taking a shower. He was afraid enough without the startling impact of hearing someone knock at the door at eleven o'clock at night.

Hutch stood and headed for the door, his hands lightly touching his gun. Don’t supposed ghost knock, he wondered.

“Who is it?”

“It’s me and the doc, Hutch,” Huggy answered.