Shadows

By M. Willow

Chapter Ten

The drive into town was interminable as Starsky carefully maneuvered the rain slicked roads.  The previous night’s rain had left the pavement slightly icy, so he did his most careful driving.  He hated keeping anything from the blond, and he certainly didn’t want to leave him, but he needed to find out what was going on.  Hutch was keeping something from him and whatever it was couldn’t be good.  They had never had a secret between them.  It scared Starsky that they had one now.

He pulled up in front of the sheriff department.  It was a stately building, befitting a town where people had more money than they would ever need.  He got out of the car and headed into the building.

It was no Parker Center.  It was quiet, unnaturally so, probably because there was no need for a large staff of cops to keep the crime rate down.  The place actually reminded him of a fancy spa.  He’d been forced to go to one of those places with an ex-girlfriend.  It was all plush carpet and expensive furnishings.  So was this place. 

Starsky saw an attractive woman sitting at a desk. She was wearing street clothing so he figured she wasn’t a cop.   She was flipping through some charts as he approached and didn’t look up.

He cleared his throat and pasted on his most flirtatious smile.  She looked up, her eyes traveling down the length of his body.  She was gorgeous.  She was wearing a skin-tight red blouse that showed off her ample cleavage.   Her hair was dark brown and worn like Bettie Page, the old 1950s pin-up girl.  Starsky wished he was here under more pleasant circumstances.

“What can I do for you, sir?” she asked, the seductive tone of her voice almost making him want to reach out and capture her full lips with a kiss.  He was having a hard time concentrating, but the thoughts of why he was there and just how little time he actually had before arousing Hutch’s suspicions.

“I, um, I’m here to see the sheriff,” he said, looking into her brown eyes.

She got up and came around to stand in front of him.  She perched on the edge of the desk and crossed her legs, giving him an ample view of her voluptuous body.  “And here I was hoping you were here to see me,” she said.  Again her eyes traveled down his body.

He smiled.  He didn’t have time to pursue anything with her, but you never knew what you could learn from the receptionist.  Right now he needed to see the sheriff, but later, she could prove useful, especially if the sheriff didn’t know anything.

He leaned forward, locking eyes with the brunette.  “I’d rather see you,” he said, his voice low and seductive.  He saw it was getting the affect he wanted when she reached over and touched his hand.

“I’ll let him know you’re here, Mr….Mr…,”

“Starsky, Dave Starsky,” he supplied.

“Candy Wells,” she said, but the sheriff is a very busy man.

“I really need to see him,” Starsky said, turning up the charm. 

She regarded him for a second.  They were flirting outrageously.  He didn’t have time for this, but it was a pleasant diversion and could get him in to see the sheriff.

She turned, bending over to reach the telephone.  Her butt was almost touching his body as she punched the button on the phone and picked up the receiver. It was all he could do to keep his concentration.

“Sheriff Mitchel.  I’ve got someone here to see you.”

Starsky heard the sheriff tell Candy that he was too busy, but she told him it wouldn’t take long and it seemed important.  Soon he was admitted into the sheriff reception room.  He took a seat and waited. 

He had decided not to mention he was a detective.  What he was doing was unofficial.  He was digging into the possible murder of Hutch’s aunt and possibly into the disappearance of a girl.  He couldn’t help but believe that the case was tied to what had happened twenty years ago. 

It was strange, believing Nelson, but the man had seemed sincere.  Only thing was, he had picked the wrong man to pen a murder on.  Still, Starsky felt he needed to pursue it.  What else did he have?  His partner was going over the edge and refusing to tell him what was going on.

The sheriff door opened to admit a tall portly man of about sixty.  He had thick grey hair interspersed with dashes of red.  His eyes were brown and sat too close together for him to have ever been considered a handsome man.  He gestured for Starsky to enter, than took his seat at his desk.  Starsky sat across from him.

 “I’m Sheriff Don Mitchel.  What can I do for you today, Mr. Starsky?”

”Please call me Dave.  I’m here regarding the aunt of my friend, a Mrs. Minerva Hutchinson.”

The sheriff shook his head, his eyes cast downward.  “Such a shame.  Such a dear woman.”

“Yes,” Starsky said.  His cop instincts told him that Sheriff Mitchel was putting on an act.  He seemed insincere. He’d have to watch what he said if he wanted information from the man.  He continued.

“I never met her, but I’m here with her nephew to settle her affairs.”

“Yes, of course,” the sheriff added.  “What do you need from me?”

“Information.”

Sheriff Mitchel sat forward in his seat, his large stomach pressing against the desk.  “What sort of information?”

“Well, I was hoping you could tell me how Mrs. Hutchinson died.”

The sheriff sat back in his seat, his body relaxed, and his eyes intently watching Starsky.  “Well, she had cancer.  Poor woman.  I’m sure it’s in her medical records.”

Starsky splayed his hands on his lap.  “But I’m lookin’ for somethin’ not in the records.”  He watched the sheriff’s face for a reaction to what he was about to say.  “I’m lookin’ for who might have murdered her.”

And the reaction was instantaneous.  The sheriff’s eyes narrowed for a second, his face reddening.  He took a sip of water and recovered quickly but, Starsky’s trained detective eyes saw it.

“Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, young man,” 

“I heard someone say….”

“You mean Ted?”  The sheriff laughed, taking another sip of water.  “He’s crazier than a bessie bug.  He probably saw President Kennedy shopping at the local hardware store.  Pay him no mind.  Mrs. Hutchinson died from the big C.  Everybody knows that.”

“Except for Ted,” Starsky added.

The sheriff’s eyes met his, all pretence cast aside in his cold stare.

“I think it’s best you leave.  I don’t have time to sit around talking about a man who obviously not in his right mind.”

“I just need a few answers.” Starsky said.

“Well than, go read the autopsy report from Doc Wilson,” The sheriff stood, clearly indicating the meeting was over.  Starsky stood as well.  He was angry.  He knew as well as the sheriff that the only way to see an autopsy report was to get a court order.  If there was a cover-up, he would need to exhume the body.  That wasn’t going to be easy because it meant involving Hutch.  That left him with two alternatives—forget the whole thing or see Candy.  He decided on the latter.

“Thanks for your help, Sheriff Mitchel.” He said with a tinge of sarcasm.  He headed for the door.

“And young man,” the sheriff called out.  Starsky stopped at the door and turned, meeting the sheriff’s eyes. “Why don’t you spend time helping your friend around that big mansion instead of looking for something that’s not there.”

Starsky smiled, but it was the kind of smile he reserved for street toughs, the kind that didn’t go to the eyes.  “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”  He left the office.  On his way out, he made arrangements to see Candy at her apartment when she got off.  He was determined to have the answers he wanted before the day ended.

TBC