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A Thousand Words
(A sequel to Jeepers Creepers)
By Mystic Whim
Hutch smiled happily at the woman sitting beside him in the car. She was a stylish woman with pure white hair pulled back into a long white braid. Her movements were graceful and flowing; her hazel eyes kind and happy. They had spent the past week together catching up and just enjoying each others company without the stress of weddings, funerals, or holidays that normally interfered with the natural joy of their past visits. He still had another week to share with her and the rest of the family, and he was disappointed it wasn't more.
"Kenny, honey, I appreciate you taking me to the eye doctor today," the woman smiled, patting him on the leg affectionately.
"It's my pleasure Mom," Hutch replied. "It's nice to be useful around here. I'm afraid I'm no help to Dad on the ranch." He laughed thinking about his disastrous attempts to be of assistance to his father.
Her eyes twinkled at her son's embarrassment. "Now that's not true, dear. You have been a big help to your father. There are just some things that are best left to the seasoned professionals." She shook her head. "Sometimes your father forgets that you are out of your element here. Ranching never was in your blood."
Hutch grinned as he pulled into the parking space directly in front of her ophthalmologist's office.
They both left the car and started up the stairs to the doctor's office. Once inside, she informed her son "Honey, this will take a while. Why don't you run along and do some shopping? Come back in an hour or so. There is no need for you to sit around here."
He checked his watch. "Okay Mother, I'll come back in an hour. Can I pick up anything for you while I'm out?"
She shook her head. "No, no dear. You go ahead. Take your time."
Hutch left the doctor's office feeling light in his steps. His visit with his mother had put him in a pleasant mood. He decided to take the opportunity to get in some early Christmas shopping, and started to window shop down the street.
A few window fronts from the doctor's office, Hutch stopped dead in his tracks.
Standing in front of an art gallery, Hutch found himself transfixed by the painting he saw displayed in the window. The painting was of three zebras running wild. It was an image he had seen before.
A memory came rushing back to him. He was looking through the sketchpad found on the floor of a massacre, among the possessions of the victims. In the sketchpad he found drawings of himself, his partner, and three zebras. The sketchpad had belonged to one of the victims of the shooting, the lone survivor, and the woman who had stolen the heart of his partner. He had not seen nor heard from the woman in well over a year, since the day she entered the Witness Protection Program.
The painting he faced now was the same as the sketch in the pad, as if she had painted it right from the sketch. There was no doubt in his mind that the same woman had done this piece of art. It was beautiful. He glanced to the bottom of the artwork in search of a signature, but could not make it out through the window. He purposefully entered the gallery.
An attractive woman in an elegant business suit approached him. "May I help you?"
"Yes. I would like to inquire about the painting in the window; the one of the zebras." Hutch followed the woman to the window and she removed the painting from its easel and brought it to him for his inspection. "Can you tell me the name of the artist?" he asked as she approached.
"Yes, it's J.C. Marcellas," the woman replied. She indicated the signature at the bottom right corner of the painting.
Hutch couldn't help but smile as he looked at the signature. J.C. Marcellas. Marcella Kendricks. J.C. for Jeepers Creepers. He felt as if he had just caught a glimpse of his old friend. Starsky had dubbed her Jeepers, or Jeeps for short, because her stunning grey eyes had reminded him of the song Jeepers Creepers. Hutch forced his mind back to the present and announced, "I would like to purchase this painting."
"Of course," the woman nodded approvingly. "Right this way please. Will that be check or credit card?"
After a moment's consideration, he answered, "Neither. I'll pay cash." She proceeded to wrap up the artwork for his purchase. As she busied herself with the task, Hutch casually asked her, "Can you tell me how I might contact the artist? Do you have a phone number or an address for her?"
"Her?" the woman asked. "Actually, no. I don't have any information on the artist at all. I wasn't even sure if it was a woman or a man."
Disappointed, he inquired, "Do you have any other pieces by this artist?"
The woman grew thoughtful for a moment, and then went to a file box on her desk. She withdrew a card, and examined it. "Ah yes. I had forgotten this piece," she said. "We were asked to store the item, not to display it. We were only supposed to show it if someone inquired after it."
His head shot up at that last comment. "Why is that? Is that a common practice?"
"No. It is highly unusual," the woman admitted.
"May I see that card?"
The woman turned the card over to him. It was typed with the specific instructions to store the piece titled Father and Son, and only show the piece to individuals who inquired about other paintings by the artist. It was not to be on display of any kind. No additional information was provided. The woman went to fetch the mysterious painting. When she emerged from the back of the gallery, she wore a bright smile on her face. "No wonder you were interested in THIS painting," she laughed. "You modeled for it, didn't you?"
Hutch whirled around. He froze when his eyes fell upon the work of art. "Oh my God," he whispered. He could not take his eyes off of the painting. Starsky, how am I going to tell you about this?
His voice was tight. "Wrap this painting up as well," he instructed the woman.
"What name shall I use?" the woman asked of him
"Excuse me?" Hutch looked up.
"For the ticket. I need to put a name on it, for filing purposes."
"Just put Cash on it," he replied mysteriously. "Or John Doe, if you prefer." He didn't want any name associated with his purchase. With Marcella, or Mike as she was known to her friends, in the Witness Protection Program, he feared for her safety and did not want anyone able to make any connection between himself and her. The sales woman obviously thought the request for anonymity unusual, but did as he asked without question.
Hutch stored the paintings in the trunk of the car. He caught up to his mother at the doctor's office, and they were soon on their way back to the Hutchinson ranch. The drive was much quieter than their ride up. "Something has happened, hasn't it dear?" his mother asked.
"Mom, I'm afraid I might have to call our visit short," he said apologetically. "I'm not sure yet. I need to call Starsky and ask him to come up here. Is that okay with you?"
"Of course, honey. You know David is always welcome here. Is something wrong?"
"I can't really tell you about it, Mom. It involves Starsky, and it's not my place to share it with anyone. I need to respect his privacy in this matter. I'm sorry. I can only tell you that I found out something today that he needs to be aware of. I want him to come here and deal with this personally."
"He's not in trouble is he?"
Hutch laughed. "Not yet, Mom. But give him time. Trouble seems to find him."
She smiled mischievously in return. "The same could be said of you, my dear."
~*~
The phone call took Starsky by surprise. "Hutch! Hey, pal, how's the Great White North?"
"Starsk, that's Canada," Hutch grinned. "I'm not quite that far north."
"Too far north for me," he shot back amused.
"Actually Starsk, I'm calling to ask you to come up here." There was seriousness in Hutch's tone that caught Starsky's attention.
"Why? What's wrong? Are your folks okay?"
Hutch hated to be secretive with his friend, but he decided not to tell Starsky of his findings. He was afraid his own impressions might influence how Starsky would view the information. "Everyone is fine, pal. I just need you here. Can you make it happen? My parents have chartered a plane for you at LAX, and it will be ready when you are. It will bring you directly to the ranch."
Bewildered, Starsky agreed. "Sure, buddy, I'll come. Hutch, this sounds serious. You aren't going to tell me what's goin' on?"
"I'll explain it all when you get here. Trust me on this. You need to be here. I need you here."
"What should I bring? How long do ya need me?"
"Bring at least a few days change of clothes, maybe a week. I can't tell you how long this will take. I'll have more answers once I see you."
"I'm on my way, buddy."
"Thanks, Starsk." Hutch let out a sigh of relief as he ended the call; thankful his partner didn't push for more answers.
~*~
Starsky stepped off the plane onto the Hutchinson airstrip that was built to accommodate the senior Hutchinson's flying hobby. He owned his own plane and often used it for his business trips. Hutch waited near the end of the runway, leaning against the side of his mother's truck with his arms and ankles crossed.
"What, no in-flight movie or little bags of peanuts?" Starsky quipped.
Hutch patted him on the back. "Thanks for coming, Starsk. Sorry for the accommodations. Mom will make up for that shortly."
"She roasting the fatted calf for me?" he asked hopefully. "I haven't eaten since I spoke to you this morning."
Laughing, Hutch shook his head. "Not quite, but close. How does a twelve ounce filet sound to you?"
Nearly drooling, Starsky rubbed his hands together in delight. "Your mom wouldn't adopt me now, would she?" Then he frowned. "No, wait a minute now. That would make me related to you. Skip it. I'll just mooch food."
Rolling his eyes, Hutch nodded to the truck. "Hop in. I'll take you back to the ranch."
Starsky slipped into the truck. Once they were on their way across the fields to the homestead, he turned questioning eyes to Hutch. "I know you want answers, Starsk. You'll get them shortly. There's something I need to show you first, and it's back at the house." Starsky nodded. They remained silent the rest of the drive.
Entering the house, Starsky found himself greeted warmly by Hutch's parents. Hutch's father, a broad-chested muscular man, stood taller than his son at six foot four. While his size was intimidating, his kind face was not. Hutch's mother, a petite elegant woman with large hazel eyes and Hutch's smile, drew Starsky into a tight hug. "Davey, it's so good to see you again!" she welcomed him.
"Hey Mrs. H!" he hugged her back, picking her up off the floor and twirling her in a circle. "Howdy Richard!" he nodded to the father. Richard had his son's sincere blue eyes, and his large hands, which firmly shook Starsky's in a two-handed shake.
"Now you call me Kathryn," Hutch's mother gently chided him. "You're family, Davey! We don't need titles around here."
They spent a short time catching up before Hutch impatiently attempted to drag Starsky off. "Mom, Dad, I have some things to discuss with Starsky that really can't wait. Can we catch up later?" Kathryn and Richard shooed the pair off, and the two men quickly headed to the bedrooms. They deposited Starsky's things on his bed, and then entered Hutch's room next door.
The paintings were both leaning against the wall on the floor. Starsky took a seat on Hutch's bed. He braced himself for what he expected to be bad news and waited for Hutch to reveal what was on his mind.
Hutch set to work unwrapping the larger of the two paintings. As he worked, he explained to his friend how he saw this painting in the window of a local art gallery. Turning the unwrapped painting around, he gave Starsky his first glimpse of it.
Starsky took one look at the wild zebras and was on his feet. "Jeeps," he said softly, then slowly walked up and knelt in front of the painting. Without taking his eyes from the painting, he asked, "Did you find her?" He smiled wistfully at the signature in the corner.
"No buddy," was his friend's quiet answer. "Not yet." He could see the optimism and pleasure in Starsky's eyes. Wishing he didn't have to take that away from him, he slowly unwrapped the second package.
"I asked if they had any other work by JC Marcellas. She told me there was one piece in storage that they were not permitted to display. She said they could only show it to buyers who inquired after other works by the same artist." He turned the other painting around and placed it on the floor beside the wild zebras.
Starsky stared at the painting, breathless. It was an incredible likeness of Hutch, gently holding an infant against his shoulder, his eyes closed, and his cheek tenderly caressing the baby's head. It was strikingly beautiful. The infant was no more than a couple months old, sleeping peacefully, with a cap of fine black wispy curls.
"She had a baby," Starsky whispered. "Our baby." He ran a caressing finger across the cherubic cheek, traced the tiny black curls, gently reaching out to the child as if it were actually in front of him instead of depicted in a work of art. Hutch observed the scene with a lump in his throat and a tightness gripping his heart. Starsky looked up at him with shining, wet eyes. "I'm a father, Hutch. I have a son."
Struck by his last statement, Hutch came around behind Starsky to take a closer look at the painting. Studying it carefully, he was unable to see what had indicated to his friend the sex of the child. "How do you know it's a boy?" he gently inquired.
Laying his palm flat against the canvas, Starsky replied, "It's called Namesake." Then he smiled at Hutch. "She named him after you."
Hutch's mouth dropped open. He recalled the saleswoman's words at the shop. "Starsk, they told me it was called Father and Son. I know that's not the true title, but how did you know what Jeeps named it?"
"She put the name on here someplace, "Starsky stated, searching for a name. "Ah, here it is. Top left corner, next to the date. She dated it just like she did her sketches."
Unable to see the date or title, Hutch picked up the painting and took it to the sliding glass door in his room for better light. Even knowing where to look, he had trouble locating it. There buried in the design of the background, Hutch spotted the tiny, very faint numbers and title of the portrait. As Starsky predicted, it was titled Namesake.
Starsky was seated on the floor, head down, digesting the shocking news. Hutch replaced the painting in front of him, then lowered himself to the floor beside his friend. "You okay?" he asked. He reached up a hand and gave Starsky's shoulder a firm squeeze.
"I've gotta find them," his friend said quietly, his voice hoarse with emotion.
"I'm going to help you, partner."
"What've ya got so far?"
"JC Marcellas. They couldn't even tell me if it was a man or a woman. No phone, no address." Hutch handed him the typed card from the file box at the gallery that he had pocketed while the woman was retrieving the second painting.
Starsky handed the card back to him. "You bought those paintings, right?" Hutch nodded. "How do they get her the commission? I think we need to go chat with that sales woman again."
"Why do you suppose the paintings were in this particular gallery?"
"You were meant to find it," Starsky surmised. "The picture is meant to be a message to you."
"Could Luigi Alphonse have left this as bait for us? Hoping we would lead him to Jeeps?" Hutch worried that the crime boss that Jeeps had testified against in court was actively seeking her out to kill her. Alphonse was the reason she was enrolled into the Witness Protection Program.
"If Alphonse had left the painting to bait you, he would've displayed the portrait of you. That would've definitely caught your attention. He wouldn't have gone with the zebras." Then he added, "And I think he would have left it in a gallery in Bay City, not here."
"Why didn't Jeeps leave the painting at a gallery in Bay City?" Hutch asked.
"Safer this way. Alphonse might have seen it back home, or he may have connections in the galleries there. Any of the Alphonse family would've recognized a painting of you."
Starsky stared back at the painting. He pulled it closer, studying the date on the work. He smiled. "Hutch, this isn't the date the painting was done. She's telling us his birth date."
"We know the baby's date of birth, and his name: Kenneth Marcellas. I could call Minnie and ask her to do a search for any baby's with that name born on that date." Hutch grew thoughtful. "Why did Jeeps leave this as a message for me? Why not you?"
"She wanted you to be the one that told me," Starsky answered softly.
"Maybe not Starsk," Hutch countered. "Maybe she left you a message as well. We need to check out the galleries near your mother."
"First I'd like to ask that sales woman at the gallery about how they pay the artist. We might get lucky there. For all we know, Jeeps could be here in town."
"We could head out there now, before they close. We should make it back in plenty of time for dinner." As they got up to leave, Hutch put his hand on Starsky's shoulder. "I'm sorry I couldn't warn you about this, Starsk. I was afraid if I told you what I saw in the paintings, it might influence you. I wanted to hear your insights without me coloring your impressions. I wasn't so sure I was right in assuming that was your baby."
"It's okay. I'm glad I saw them here with you instead of hearing about it over the phone or seeing it in some gallery window someplace. I think that's why she did it this way. She sent the message to you knowing you would know how to break it to me, and you would be here for me." He reached up and patted the hand on his shoulder in thanks.
They drove to the gallery, arriving shortly before they closed. Hutch approached the woman who had helped him earlier, and gave her a charming smile. "Hello. I was in earlier and purchased two paintings from you."
"Ah, yes, Mr. Doe," the woman grinned. "Is there anything else I could help you with?"
"You said earlier that you had no address or phone number for the artist JC Marcellas. Can you tell me how she is paid for the sale of her art?"
"Yes, of course. An agent brought in the paintings. We are to forward the monies from the sale to the agent who will in turn get the payment to the artist."
"Can I get the name and address of that agent?" Hutch requested.
The woman went to a file cabinet and searched for a particular file. "Here it is." She pulled a sheet from the folder and ran it through her copy machine. She gave the copy to Hutch.
Starsky came up beside him and read the paper with him. "Says here that he is associated with a gallery in Minneapolis," he commented. "How far are we from there?"
"It's about a day's drive," Hutch murmured. "Maybe eight hours."
"If you like, I could contact the agent and request more work to be brought up," the sales woman offered.
"No, thank you," Hutch replied. "I would like to speak to the agent personally. Thank you for your assistance. You have been very helpful."
~*~
The two men headed back to the ranch. Kathryn served up a feast in honor of Starsky's visit. He ate with relish, and basked in the warm welcome from his hosts. When the meal was over, Hutch and his father volunteered to clear the table and do the dishes, leaving Starsky and Kathryn alone in the dining room, enjoying their coffee.
"Davey," Kathryn began, "don't let the business between you and Kenny keep you from enjoying your holiday with us. Please take advantage of the ranch and all it has to offer. Any of us would be happy to take you down and see you outfitted with a gentle horse to go riding, or show you around the city. There are even boat tours of Lake Superior that would be very enjoyable. You have looked so troubled since your arrival, and I do wish your trip could be more of a positive experience for you."
Starsky gulped when she mentioned riding. He was not fond of horses, and realized that Hutch had not shared this revelation with his parents. He managed to smile and looked pleased at her suggestions.
"Thanks Kathryn," Starsky squeezed her hand. "I appreciate all you have done for me. I especially appreciate your chartering that plane. Has Hutch explained to you what's happening here?"
"No, honey. He didn't feel it was his place to discuss your business. We just wanted to help in any way we could."
"I can't tell you all of it, but I can tell you some of what's happening. About a year ago, a woman I loved testified against a major crime boss. He vowed to go after anyone who testified against him, so we had her placed in the Witness Protection Program. Hutch has found evidence here in Duluth that the woman has had a baby; my child. I intend to find her, and the baby. Hutch is helping me with this."
Kathryn covered her mouth with her hand. "Oh Davey," she whispered. "It must have been heartbreaking for you to lose her, and then to find out she was with child… I am so sorry. Is there anything I can do?"
He shook his head. "You've been a lot of help already," he told her sincerely. "Just bringing me here was a big help."
She pulled him into a hug. "Anything you need, you just ask, David. We'll do our best to be here for you."
Starsky looked at her with sad eyes. "I may need to borrow your son for a while, Kathryn. We found some clues that we need to chase down, but I hate to break your visit short."
"Ken has already told me he would be leaving early," she told him. "Don't feel badly about this. Our visit has been wonderful. This is more important now. You two go off and find that little baby, and its mother. Our plane is at your disposal if you need it. Richard would be happy to pilot you. Just tell us if there is anything else we can do."
"You've done plenty," he assured her. "Thank you." Then he asked her, "Kathryn, would you like to see a picture of my son?"
"Of course, David!"
He got up and cocked his head toward the door. "You'll have to come with me. It's in my room." He extended his arm to her to escort her to his room, and she linked her arm through his. He patted her hand as they walked down the hall chatting. Once in his room, Starsky picked up the painting and rested it on a chair as if on an easel. Kathryn stared at the painting, softly exclaiming, "Oh, David, what a beautiful baby! But why is the baby in Kenny's arms instead of yours?"
Starsky smiled proudly. "She named him Kenneth. The painting is called Namesake."
Kathryn's face lit up in pleasure. "He is lovely, David. And he has been blessed with his father's curls."
The proud father beamed at her words.
~*~
Starsky and Hutch were loading up the truck in preparation for the trip to Minneapolis. Just before they were ready to leave, Kathryn called the two men into the family room. She asked Starsky to sit down, while Hutch stood behind his mother, his hands resting on her shoulders. "Davey, before you go, I have a couple of things for you."
Starsky looked to Hutch for explanation. Hutch said nothing, but smiled at his partner.
"First of all," Kathryn continued, "I wish to return this." She placed a piece of paper into his hand. Starsky examined it, confused why she would have a deposit slip from his checkbook. She explained, "I asked Ken to get that from you. I used it to provide my bank with your account number so that a wire transfer could be made. Richard and I have deposited some funds into your account, to help you with your search for your son and his mother." Starsky started to protest, but she raised a hand to silence him. "You will need cash for gas, hotels, food, and any number of expenses that will arise. This will help you out. Don't bother to tell me not to do it because it has already been done. This is not a loan; this is a gift. You know Richard and I consider you family, so please accept this as a gesture of our support and our love, and our desire to help, and do not object."
She looked at him with such gracious affection that he found himself speechless. "Thank you Kathryn," he said in a choked voice. "I don't know what to say…"
"Say you will find them," she laughed.
"I'll do my damnedest," he vowed.
He stood up to thank her but she stopped him. "I have one more gift for you." She handed him a small jewelry box. Starsky opened the box to find a very small gold band inside. "That is a baby ring," she told him. "It belonged to Ken's grandfather, the man he was named after. Ken was his namesake, and we give this to you to give to his namesake. I believe the ring will bring you luck. I have been praying to Ken's grandfather, that he will watch over you and guide you in your search."
Starsky shook his head. "I can't accept this," he said as he closed the jewelry box and held it out to her. "It's a family heirloom and belongs to your grandchild someday…"
Hutch reached out and closed his hand over Starsky's. "This is from me too," Hutch said as he locked eyes with his friend. "We want you to have this."
Starsky's eyes were glistening. He pulled Hutch into a bear hug, then turned and embraced Kathryn. "Thank you," he whispered. She pointed to the door and sent him on his way. Before he left, Starsky asked, "Where is Richard? I need to thank him too."
"He had to leave an hour ago," Kathryn explained. "He had to tend to an ill horse. I will extend your appreciation to him, sweetheart. You two need to get going if you want to make the Twin Cities at a reasonable hour." They said goodbye, and left in search of Jeeps and her son.
~*~
The offices of Anthony Ducat were tasteful and inviting, his secretary was polished and efficient. Hutch introduced himself as Ron Sabo, and asked to see Mr. Ducat. The secretary excused herself before disappearing into a large office behind her. A short time later, she emerged, inviting the two men into the room.
Anthony Ducat was a short handsome man with shrewd green eyes and an aura that spoke of power. He shook hands with them both, offering a firm handshake. He stared at Hutch intently, asking, "Have we met?"
"I don't think so, Mr. Ducat. My name is Ron Sabo, and this is my friend Jason Spence. We have come here today to ask you about one of your clients, JC Marcellas."
Ducat broke into an attractive smile. "That's where I have seen you before! The painting. You posed for Father and Son, if I am not mistaken."
Hutch smiled in return. "Yes, Mr. Ducat. That is why I am here. I am interested in locating JC Marcellas."
"Please, call me Anthony." The agent returned to his desk and the three sat down. "I'm afraid I won't be much help to you gentlemen. The painting you posed for has just recently been sold. And I have no idea of the whereabouts of JC Marcellas."
"Isn't JC a client of yours?" Hutch asked.
"Yes, but I have never actually met him. He had the paintings delivered by courier. All of our correspondence has been by mail. I normally wouldn't take on a client under such unusual circumstances, but he is obviously a very gifted artist. He also pays me generously to cater to his eccentricities."
"Do you have an address?" Hutch asked.
"Yes, but it is a post office box," Ducat replied. He flipped through a rolodex on his desk and withdrew the appropriate card. He jotted down the address on a slip of paper and passed it to Hutch.
Starsky inquired, "Do you recall the name of the courier service that delivered the artwork? Perhaps we could contact them for a street address."
"No, I'm sorry," Ducat shook his head. "We have a number of courier services make deliveries here in any given week. I couldn't possibly tell you which one."
Hutch asked, “Do you have any other pieces by JC Marcellas?”
“None that are for sale,”
Starsky and Hutch looked at each other and then back at Ducat. “But you have work by the artist that is not for sale?” Starsky leaned forward expectantly.
“Yes, quite a few,” he admitted. “They are being stored for a future show, as soon as I can get him to agree to it.”
“May we look at the pieces?” Hutch asked eagerly.
“Yes, of course.” Ducat stood and walked to the door, indicating that the men should follow him. He took them down to the gallery to a vault. Inside were about a dozen paintings by JC Marcellas, as well as works by other artists. Before the men stepped inside, Ducat gestured to a portrait of himself hanging on the wall just outside the vault. It was an impressive likeness of him, and it was painted by Jeeps. “This was a gift from JC for selling two pieces yesterday. He gave it to me on the condition that for the time being I only hang it in my offices. I was asked not to sell it or display it in my galleries.” He shook his head at the strange request.
Starsky was instantly drawn to the portrait. He carefully studied it, then came away with a smile. He cast a knowing look at Hutch, who nodded almost imperceptibly. Then the two men proceeded to inspect the remaining twelve paintings. Most were passed over by Starsky, until he found one of a park. There were children at play, and mothers gathered on benches watching their little ones. Starsky motioned for Hutch to look at the painting, and they both smiled to see Jeeps sitting on a distant bench, breastfeeding an infant. They both noted the top left corner of the painting. It was titled “Volz”.
“None of these are for sale?” Hutch asked again. “I am specifically interested in this one.”
Ducat walked up and looked at the painting in Hutch’s hands. “It’s funny you should pick that particular painting.”
“Why is that?” Starsky asked.
“I received a letter from JC last week, asking me to deliver that specific painting to a gallery in New York. I actually do have permission to sell that one. In fact, you would save me a trip. That is not a gallery that I normally do business with. I was not particularly interested in beginning now. I was due to fly out there day after tomorrow.”
“Do you mind if I ask what gallery?” Starsky inquired.
Ducat gave him the name of the gallery, and the street it was on. Starsky recognized it as a gallery very close to where his brother Nicky lived. Ducat directed one of his employees to process the sale and to wrap up the artwork.
Hutch questioned Ducat again. “Have you delivered any other pieces by JC to other galleries?”
“I delivered two to a gallery in Duluth, and I was to deliver this one to New York. I have not distributed any other works. The two in Duluth sold yesterday.” The man sighed in frustration. “JC Marcellas is an extremely talented artist. I’m sure I could do a lot for him if he would untie my hands and let me do my job. His work is remarkable.”
“How did you two end up working together?” Starsky wondered.
“He sent me a letter, along with the portrait you see here on the wall. Normally I do not accept just any artist, but his work was so impressive that I was ready to sign him as a client sight unseen based on that single portrait. I never expected all of our communications to be by letter. It has been an interesting association.”
After thanking Ducat and leaving the gallery with their third painting, the men made the short drive back to their hotel room. While driving, Hutch turned to Starsky and asked, “What did you see on Ducat’s portrait?”
“Where she hid the titles on the other paintings it said Seven States. That refers to a conversation I had with Jeeps. She was telling me that there were seven states that she had never been to. She’s trying to tell us that she is living in one of those seven states.”
“Do you remember what they were?”
“I think so, but I would like to look at a map first. I remember Washington, Oregon, Arizona, Nevada, Illinois.”
“What about the title on the painting we bought?”
“I’m not sure what Volz is,” he admitted. “I had never heard that before.”
“I want to call Minnie when we get back to the room. I’m hoping she has had some success with tracking down the baby’s birth. I also want to have her check on this PO Box to see if she can come up with anything on it.”
Hutch’s phone call to Minnie was disappointing. She had been unable to find anything on a Kenneth Marcellas born on or around that date in any state.
While still speaking with Minnie, Hutch suggested that maybe Volz was the name she was currently using, and that JC Marcellas was strictly a name that she used for her artwork alone.
“No,” Starsky vehemently disagreed. “Volz is not her name.” He looked at the painting again. “I think it’s the park she is sitting in. It’s a clue to where she is, not who she is.” Then he looked to Hutch. “Could the baby have been born in a military hospital? Would they be able to keep the birth secret?”
“It’s possible,” Hutch and Minnie agreed. He waited on hold while Minnie tried to find out about the post office box address they obtained from Ducat. Starsky checked a map and determined the remaining two states that Jeeps had mentioned she had never been to.
“The other two states were New Mexico and Utah,” Starsky informed Hutch. That’s the seven; Washington State, Oregon, New Mexico, Arizona, Nevada, Utah and Illinois.”
Minnie came back on the line with more bad news. She told Hutch that the post office box that Jeeps had used was owned by the US Marshal’s Service. The information was labeled as classified, and she could obtain no further information on the person who used it.
“Minnie, I want you to focus on these seven states,” Hutch began. He listed the states for her. “Check on military bases and in those areas and see if you can locate any birth records for children born on that date, particularly children named Kenneth. I’ll call you back tomorrow.” He said his goodbyes before hanging up. He sank to the bed and wearily rubbed his eyes.
“We have them narrowed down to seven states,” Starsky sighed. “That’s better than what we had this morning.”
“What I’m afraid of,” Hutch confessed, “is that we will continue to run into brick walls set up by the Witness Protection Program.”
“I imagine we will,” he agreed. “But we’re also finding clues that Jeeps left for us at the same time. We’ll find her. It’s just a matter of time.”
Hutch left to retrieve their belongings from the car. While he was gone, Starsky called his bank to find out where his finances stood, in light of Kathryn’s mysterious deposit. Hearing his bank total, he hung up the phone in shock, glad that his partner was absent. The Hutchinson’s had wire-deposited $10,000 into his account. He no longer needed to be concerned about his finances for this trip.
~*~
The following morning, the men were packing up to return to Duluth when a knock was heard at their door. Both men pulled their guns and went to the door. “Who is it?” Starsky called out.
“We are Federal Marshals, Detective Starsky. Please open up. We’d like to speak to you.” Hutch looked through the peephole to see the badge held up by the agent. He nodded to Starsky who opened the door. They re-holstered their guns.
The agents entered the hotel room, displaying their identification to the two detectives. Agent Fitzgerald explained that the two men were asked to come in to their office for questioning.
“Questioning? About what?” Starsky asked.
“We are not at liberty to discuss this outside of our offices,” Agent Erenberg recited. “All I can tell you is that it is related to a personal investigation you are conducting.”
Starsky and Hutch looked at each other. Starsky raised a single eyebrow, and Hutch let the corner of his mouth curve up in a slight grin. They had obviously hit a nerve somewhere, and this could be an opportunity for more information.
“Lead the way, gentlemen.” Hutch nodded.
The four men drove directly to the US Courthouse on Fourth Street in Minneapolis, which housed the District of Minnesota’s US Marshal. There they were taken to an office and asked to wait. A short time later, they were greeted by the agent that had met with Starsky and Jeeps when she originally entered the program.
“Agent Hoffinger,” Starsky rose to shake her hand. “A pleasure to see you again.”
Annette Hoffinger appeared displeased. “Detective Starsky,” she shook his hand. “Detective Hutchinson.” She turned to enter the office door and inclined her head to indicate that they should accompany her.
She took a seat at the desk. Starsky sat in the seat opposite her while Hutch remained standing, leaning against the office door.
“Detective Starsky,” Agent Hoffinger began, “I flew out to Minneapolis last night in response to reports I received that you were conducting a personal investigation into the whereabouts of Marcella Kendricks.”
“I’m sorry to have put you to so much trouble,” Starsky gave her a charming smile. “I’m flattered that you would come so far just to see me.”
Not amused, she glared at him. “You do realize that interfering with the Witness Security Program is punishable by prison time and up to $50,000 in fines?”
“But I am not interfering.”
“You may very well be endangering her life,” she shot back. “I’m sure you don’t realize that we have already had to re-assign her a new identity because the Alphonse family had located her once. We have no desire to repeat this process because of your interference. We don’t appreciate your attempts to find her. You could very well point the family right to her.”
“I haven’t endangered her. There is nothing that my partner and I have done that could have drawn the attention of the Alphonse family. I am a cop, Agent Hoffinger. I know what I’m doing.”
“Detective, as I recall, it was you who recommended Miss Kendricks for the WITSEC program. Surely you are aware of the absolute security needed for the program to be successful. The information you seek is confidential, and we enforce that confidentiality in order to protect Miss Kendricks. I must insist that you cease your investigation immediately.”
“Agent Hoffinger, I will NOT cease my search for Marcella.” He took a decidedly challenging tone with the agent. “It has come to my attention that Miss Kendricks was pregnant when she entered the program, and that she has since given birth to my son.”
The agent’s head shot up. “Where did you get that information, Detective Starsky?” she demanded.
“It doesn’t matter where I got that information, Agent Hoffinger. The fact remains that I have a child out there somewhere, and you are telling me that I should cease my investigation to find him. I’m not going to do that.”
“That information has been kept highly classified, for her protection as well as the child’s! Should the Alphonse family discover this information, they could come after the baby. So far they have been blind to his existence, something that has assured his safety.”
“I can understand your desire to keep my child a secret, Agent, but this is something that I should have been informed of. That baby is my son. I have a right to know my son. I should have been told of his birth and I should now be told his whereabouts.”
Agent Hoffinger crossed her arms across her chest. “Detective, didn’t you deliver Miss Kendricks to us personally? From what I understood, you pushed her into this program, did you not?”
“Yes I did.”
“And you had your choice to enter into this program with her, did you not?”
Starsky gritted his teeth. “Yes I did.”
“You chose not to enter the program. Is that correct?”
“That’s correct.”
“And you have no desire at this time to enter the program. Is that also correct?”
“That’s correct.”
“I’m sorry, Detective Starsky. I can’t help you. And I can’t permit you to continue your search. You brought her to us and asked us to protect her. You didn’t wish to follow her into the program and you don’t wish to follow her now. Nothing has changed. She is still in danger, and now that danger is extended to your son. If you do not wish to enter into hiding with them, then we can not disclose their location to you. We are not only protecting these two lives, but all the lives that Alphonse puts in danger if he were to be released. Should anything happen to Miss Kendricks, and Alphonse initiates an appeal, he very well could end up back on the streets. You were willing to walk away from her a year ago to guarantee her safety and to put Alphonse away for good. This was a sacrifice you were willing to make. Now you must make that same sacrifice for your child. Sometimes justice requires sacrifices, Detective.”
Starsky’s dark eyes flamed with fury. He rose to his feet and leaned forward, resting his hands upon her desk. Looming before her face, he spoke with a deadly tone. “Don’t lecture me about sacrifices, Agent Hoffinger. I know all about making sacrifices in the name of justice. My father was a cop, gunned down and murdered when I was a small boy, because he fought for justice. I buried a woman that I loved, shot and killed because I was a cop. I have held my best friend as he lay broken because he fought for justice. I have stood at the funerals of my slain brothers in blue, sacrificed, their blood paying for justice. I have had to face the scum on the street and experience their filth to fight for justice. My own life is put on the line every single day in the name of justice, and I have been gunned down and left for dead. I have sacrificed Marcella, a woman that I love and cherish, in the name of justice. I thought I had nothing left to sacrifice to
justice! But now you tell me that I must sacrifice my only child? You tell me that I can never meet him? See him grow up? Hold him? Love him?!” He slammed a palm flat against the desk in a startling bang. Agent Hoffinger visibly jumped at the sound.
Hutch stepped up and grabbed Starsky by the arm. Quelled by his friend’s grasp and empathetic eyes, Starsky stalked over to the window and stared out. Agent Hoffinger stood without a word and left the office. A thick silence descended on the room.
A long while later, Agent Hoffinger returned to the room. Her manner was changed, anger dissipated. She stood behind her chair and spoke quietly. “Detective Starsky? Please take a seat. Detective Hutchinson, if you please.” She gestured to the two chairs facing her desk and awaited their compliance.
Most of his anger spent, Starsky still glared at the woman with the sharp intensity that blazed in his eyes. She held his gaze for a moment, then spoke in a kind tone. “Detective Starsky, I am sorry to have spoken to you as I did. I was concerned about the safety of the people I am responsible for, and I spoke out of anger and frustration. I did not take into account how this situation has impacted you or anyone else. My only thoughts were of my witness. Obviously this case has unusual circumstances that must be taken into account. I am willing to work with you on this, if you and your partner both agree to follow my procedures without fail. I have discussed this matter with my supervisor, and I have spoken briefly with Miss Kendricks. I will arrange for you to meet with her, and her son. We will schedule regular visitations for you. If at any time you fail to follow the guidelines I have set up, visitation will be terminated. If you are agreeable to
my terms, I will have you taken immediately to meet with them.”
Starsky looked at the agent with appreciation in his eyes. “Thank you, Agent Hoffinger.” He said, extending his hand to shake. She nodded, and then turned to shake Hutch’s hand.
“You will be flown to Illinois by military chopper. I’ve taken the liberty of instructing Agents Erenberg and Fitzgerald to pack up your belongings at the hotel and bring them here before you leave. You will be escorted from the Glenview Naval Air Station to meet with Marcellas. I have arranged for you both to stay a couple days this time. Other visits will be longer in the future, but this is the best I could do on such short notice. During your trip to Illinois, you will be instructed on proper procedure and security for these visits. I trust that you will follow our procedures, and there will be no reason to call me from my office to come chasing after you again.”
Starsky reached out and gently took her hand, giving it a light squeeze. “Thank you for giving me my son,” he said in a hoarse voice. The soulful look in his eyes touched her heart.
“You’re welcome,” she replied softly.
~*~
Hutch pulled the car up in front of the entrance to Volz Park. A short distance away, they could see Jeeps sitting on a bench, peacefully feeding her son. The image was just as she had painted it. The men emerged from the car, and Starsky took a tentative step forward, only to stop and look to Hutch.
“Go ahead, Buddy. They’re waiting for you,” he smiled. “I’ll be along in a few minutes.”
Starsky grinned; glad for the moment of privacy he would have for their first meeting in well over a year. He quickly walked down the path. Hutch folded his arms on the top of the car, and watched his friend go to the woman he loved. He saw Jeeps lay the baby on a blanket on the ground, and run to Starsky, throwing herself into his arms in a loving embrace. There was a passionate kiss, and he picked her up and twirled her around, giddy to have her in his arms again. Hutch felt a lump in his throat as she brought Starsky to the blanket, and lifted the baby into his arms. Starsky pulled Jeeps into the embrace, and the three held each other while the parents cried tears of regret and joy.
The end.
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