Huggy Under Fire
By Amye
Thursday nights at Huggy's Bar and Grill were busy nights, and this Thursday was no exception. Patrons were gearing up for the final workday push before the weekend, some having taken Friday off during the lazy spring season. People were hooking up for talk, to play pool or other games, or for romantic liaisons.
It always pleased Huggy Bear to see a full and hopping joint – especially when that joint happened to be his own. The more the booze flowed and the burgers sizzled, the happier a Huggy Bear.
Tonight, however, he wasn't planning on sticking around to oversee it. He had hopping plans of his own back at his place. And they didn't include schmoozing up to this crown when he had a delectable young lady wrapped in his arms to schmooze with. Now to just sneak out of here without a certain pair of cops seeing…
“Hey, Hug! Where're you off to in the middle of driving commerce? It's only 7:30 buddy, and things are just kicking in. It's not like you to go off and leave the place under someone else's care.”
His shoulders dropped at the loud, garish voice coming from his curly-haired cop friend. Huggy gave his date an apologetic look at he turned the two of them around, still arm in arm, to face the curiosity of his friends.
“Where're ya goin', Hug?” Starsky asked again, when the lanky bar owner stopped at their table.
Lightly squeezing the beautiful, young, coffee cream-colored woman in his arms, Huggy introduced the lovely lady. “This here's Bonita. I was just gonna show her how one Huggy Bear became so aptly named.”
Both detectives gave the woman with the soft, long chestnut curls and a 34-21-32 figure, the once over.
Huggy rolled his eyes at their knowning smirks. “Now, if you don't mind, me and my lady friend have some serious gettin' down to do.”
“Bonita, if you're ever in the mood to dump this Pcasso-inspired restauranteur, the name's Ken, and I wouldn't bore you with any details about Huggy's personal life.” The blond cop stood up and took her hand, kissing it gentlemanly as he winked at Huggy's lady; causing Huggy to stare him down. He had to be careful around these two, lest they steal the lovely Bonita without him being aware.
“I think Huggy's apparel represents his outlook on life – enthusiastic.” Bonita's eyes shown wickedly as she looked over her companion's colorful outerwear.
“Poor girl. Already a lost cause,” Starsky muttered behind his beer as Huggy and Bonita took their leave.
Finishing their beers, the two cops ordered another round from Diane and settled around the pinball games at the front of the bar. Not needing to hook up with the opposite sex – though they wouldn't turn any advances down – they just enjoyed each other's companionship and tried to one-up the other.
Halfway through their third beers, an explosion propelled large red-gold flames, followed by thick gray smoke, from the kitchen area. Thrown out of the kitchen violently through the destroyed doorway, was Huggy Bear's cook, José, already a mass of burnt and blackened flesh, and unrecognizable.
With the swinging door to the kitchen gone and the counter to the kitchen open, smoke began to fill the interior of the bar rapidly, overcoming the patrons who began to panic and rush for the small door leading to the front sidewalk. Panic ensued, with no direction and no one to take charge.
Immediately dropping into a crouch, Hutch tried to grab several patrons that were headed out the back toward the alleyway entrance. He had seen that the flames were being fed fast by the varnished and papered walls, and were quickly blocking the small hallway to that exit.
As the smoke filled the interior, patrons began coughing and visibility lessend to just a few feet. Screams, cries, the sound of falling bodies, and crashing furniture mixed in with the crackle and hiss of the fire, as well as the snapping sounds as the fire consumed glass, wood, and anything else its tendrils could devour. It was a scene none, including those who had served in Vietnam , could ever remember experiencing before, due to the closeness of the quarters.
Hutch raised his head while holding onto an arm that of an unknown person, and tried to yell for calm. The moment he opened his mouth and took a breath, however, he was overcome with a blast furnace of heated air and smoke searing into his lungs, and instead of speaking, he coughed loudly, tremors running through his shocked system.
Collapsing onto his hands and knees as he attempted to clear his burning lungs, Hutch inadvertently let go of the arm of the person he was trying to direct to the exit. Patting the floor in front of him, he tried to locate his partner. Where's Starsky? He was right beside me! Where'd he go?
His vision receding around the edges and the noises of the fire and panic fading distantly, Hutch realized he was headed for trouble. Assuming the dim brightness just ahead of him was the front picture window, he used the last of his waning strength to pull himself up and throw his body outward onto the sidewalk.
As he fell through the glass and onto the concrete, a rush of smoke followed him out, curling upward on the outside of the building and alerting the citizens of the danger. The rush of oxygen into the bar fed the fire and soon the interior was a maze of flames flickering at everything – and everyone – inside.
On the sidewalk, Hutch curled into a fetal position, gasping. Trying to feed his aching lungs and body with fresh air, he couldn't take the presence of mind to care about the condition of those that had not been able to leave through the small front doorway, in the crush to exit the flaming bar. He didn't even know if Starsky had made it out…
An alert citizen next door to Huggy Bear's had already contacted the authorities at the first sign of bar patrons stumbling out into the diminishing sunlight. Several men were trying to pull wedged bodies from the jammed doorway, yanking at entwined limbs, hair, clothing; anything that would loosen bodies from the mass of flesh entangled there.
For the most part, they were unsuccessful…
* * * * * *
A deep throbbing in his head and chest, and the urge to cough were the first indicators to Hutch that he was climbing back towards consciousness. Daring to open his eyes, he was assaulted by a brightness above him that immediately caused him to shut his lids again and wait for the spots and pain to diminish.
Deep coughing jarred the oxygen mask over his face. An unfamiliar hand moved to adjust it. “Detective Hutchinson ? Detective Hutchinson , come on. Open your eyes,” a soothing, yet stern voice commanded.
“Is he awake? Lemme see him.”
“Officer! Please, stop crowding. Let your partner get his bearings,” scolded the same voice.
Starsky! You're okay! “Wha…” Hutch tried to speak through the mask, but found his voice muffled, so he removed the obstacle. “Starsky! <cough> What…where were you?” He asked the curly-headed, sooty-faced man that bent over into his view. Blinking his eyes again to clear up his vision more, Hutch tried to raise his upper body on his lower arms.
Laying a palm on the strong, broad chest, Starsky lightly pushed him back down. “Hey, Blintz! Careful there. You knocked your head doing a swan dive into the sidewalk and swallowed a bunch of smoke.”
“What about you? You disappeared. I…<cough> I couldn't find you.”
Grinning crookedly while the nurse replaced Hutch's oxygen mask, Starsky gave his explanation. “That's ‘cause I'm smart in addition to being sexy.”
Rolling his eyes hurt his head even more, so Hutch groaned beneath the mask, then gasped to retrieve more air into his weakened lungs. “Please! You looked like hell even before you were shot last month…”
“You really want to know?”
Piercing blue eyes demanded that Starsky get serious and answer the question.
“Well, when José's…body came flying through the bar, I grabbed my jacket, poured my beer on it, and beat a path out the back door.”
“Don't let this guy fool you, Hutchinson. He was a real hero. Good presence of mind in such a situation.” A deep booming voice from outside his line of view let Hutch know his superior was also there.
“Captain?”
“He led several people out the back door with his makeshift cover until the flames cut that way off.”
“You…<cough>…You ‘kay?” Hutch asked his partner?
“He's got some smoke inhalation, but refused to be taken in.”
Looking over his shoulder with a frown at their captain, Starsky confirmed that he was fine. Hutch had enough going on, he didn't need to add worries about Starsky to his mind.
“Hey now,” he continued as he smoothed the sheet over Hutch's form. “Don't worry about me. Just rest for a bit and let the doctors listen to your chest and stuff, so you can get outta here. We got work to do.”
“Work?”
Grimacing this time, Starsky unraveled all that had happened. “Somebody lit up Huggy Bear's. It's a total loss. I know the fire marshall 's already been over to talk to him, but I'm sure they'll want to talk to us, too. And we gotta get on the streets and find out the whys and wherefores. We owe it to Huggy.”
“Why not let the fire inspectors do their job?”
“'Cause, Blintz, lotsa people died in there tonight. Woulda been more if it wasn't for you creating a new doorway.”
Exhausted and wanting to sleep, Hutch still had to know. “How many?”
“Don't worry about that now, Hutch. Just relax, like Starsky said.”
Snapping his eyes open, to the dismay of his heavy head, he demanded an answer. “How many?”
“Fifteen,” was Dobey's succinct answer. “And three more in critical condition, including a fireman.”
The same nurse broke in at that point and tried to drag Starsky away. “Officer, you need to get cleaned up. I really can't have you back here contaminating the Emergency Room.”
Nodding, Hutch agreed. “Go on, Starsk. I'm just going <cough> to sleep for a bit. Be fine.” He trailed off, waiving his hand semi-consciously, as his body gave in to the exhaustion.
* * * * * *
The hospital kept Hutch under observation for three hours, then released him to the care of his less weakened, more energetic partner. Starsky had taken in more smoke than he let on, and though he'd been treated at the scene, he too, was still a little shaky. Luckily, they were already off duty, so Dobey gave them the following day off with instructions that they were to rest. Realizing, however, that his words would probably fall on deaf ears, especially since one of their best friends was now out of a legitimate business and possibly in trouble with whomever had set the incendiary device.
Of the 15 people who died, twelve died because they had rushed the tiny front door and got entangled amongst each other when someone fell just in front of it. Most had suffocated, but whether it was from smoke inhalation or the crush of bodies, had yet to be determined. A few had third degree burns on their extremities, but the first department had been able to control the fire before it reached the upper floors or the neighboring businesses. José – who'd died instantly – was a blackened corpse, and two others were hospitalized with several smoke inhalation, as they were trapped in the bathroom. A fireman was currently fighting for his life from when the long bar had collapsed into a living, breathing death-trap on top of him.
Starsky had saved three people himself by pulling them out the back door, including Huggy's attractive barmaid, Diane. Two people had followed Hutch out the window, including the woman whose arm he'd grabbed. They, too had been treated and released.
Now, relaxing at Starsky's, the two detectives had yet to contact Huggy and offer their condolences on the loss of his livelihood, not to mention the loss of friends and patrons. It was after 1:00 a.m. before they arrived at Starsky's eclectic apartment, and all both wanted to do was collapse. Hutch didn't even bother with a shower, he was so exhausted. Normally, Starsky would've insisted, but since Hutch had been cleaned up at the hospital, and only his clothes were dirty and smelly, Starsky at least exhorted Hutch to changed his outwear first, before helping his best friend get settled for the night.
* * * * * *
At 10:30 the next morning Starsky was awakened by a swift and loud pounding on his door. He had given his bed to his partner and slept on the couch, since he felt Hutch was hurting more.
“Hold on,” he grumbled as the pounding continued unabated. It took Starsky a few moments to disengage his legs from the twisted sheet as he stumbled to the doorway.
He swung open the door, snarling, “Don'tcha know there's injured people –“ to reveal a stunned and hurt Huggy Bear. “Oh, sorry, Huggy, come on in.” Starsky softened his tone as he tightened the sheet around him and smoothed his unruly hair into some semblance of respectability.
“My place, Starsky….” Huggy was in shambles. It was obvious he'd not slept much – if at all – that night. His eyes were bulging, his lips dry, his shoulders drooped. “It's all gone.”
“We know, Hug.” He raised his hand and set it on Huggy's upper arm in sympathy.
“Oh, that's right. You guys…. Shit, man, I'm standing here blubberin' all about some dive and you guys almost bought it.” The fragile looking man sagged onto the couch where Starsky had led him. “You, uh, you got some coffee or something?”
“I just got up. Let me get some on. Hutch's still sleeping,” Starsky continued as he walked into the kitchen. “He took in a lot of smoke and came damn near to getting a concussion.”
“What about you, my man? You okay?”
Starsky shook off his friend's concern. “I'm fine.”
“Don't let him fool you, Huggy. He took in a lot of smoke himself.” Hutch had awakened at the sound of voices and now stood in the doorway by the kitchen.
“You're supposed to be resting, buddy,” Starsky admonished.
“I'm fine, Starsk. Not even coughing anymore.” To prove it, Hutch took a slow, deep breath. A tight cough that he suppressed into trembles was all the evidence of last night's exertions.
“How about a shower, then, Hutch? To loosen them tired muscles and get rid of that smoky smell.”
“You're the one who dragged out three people. Your shoulder's got to be hurting.” Hutch was referring to the recently healed bullet wound Starsky had received from a mob hit man. “I could give you a massage.”
“Nah, it's fine, and I took a shower last night after you fell asleep.” Starsky looked at the round clock on his kitchen wall. “Or rather this morning.”
Hutch acquiesced and headed off to the master bath, while Starsky prepared some scrambled eggs, toast, and coffee for the three of them.
Huggy seemed to need to talk, so Starsky let him. The shattered man needed a release. He was upset about his livelihood being destroyed, yes, but he was more upset about the loss of lives and having to face the friends, girlfriends, boyfriends, and families of those acquaintances who had died on his premises. He felt very guilty for leaving the bar in the hands of an ‘untrained', since Diane had been with him less than a year.
“I don't know all who was in there. They won't tell me or let the names out until families have been notified. But I can take a wild guess. I know my customers. I know who was there when Bonita and I left.” His voice softened. “Diane's okay…but José…Man, to go like that and all. All Angela's got left to bury him is a charred shell.
“We're gonna get ‘em, Huggy. Dobey put us in charge of the investigation. We'll find out what happened.”
“Fire inspector tol' me it was planted.”
“A bomb?”
“So they say. But who? Why? And how? I'm squatting most of the time, and I got that pad upstairs.” Huggy's deep brown eyes appeared pale, distraught, confused. “Why my place?” This was the first time since he was in his early 20s that Huggy had been targeted by violence directly. Unusual for a young black man his age in these times, but Huggy had always taken precautions to be careful.
By the time Huggy was finished lamenting, Hutch was done with his shower. Dressed in a pair of Starky's sweat pants – even though they were too short – and a plain blue t-shirt, he came into the kitchen in the middle of his friends' conversation, and comfortingly set his hands on Huggy's slim shoulders. “That's what we're gonna find out, my friend.” He paused, as cop mode kicked in. “What do you know about your landlord?”
Huggy shrugged. “Dom? He's cool.”
“Any problems with him? Any problems you know that he may have had?”
“Nah.” Long, thin fingers played with a coffee cup. “Can't figure who'd roll me like this. I been racking my brains all night with Bonita, tryin' to get a handle on it.”
“Maybe they didn't want to target you per se. Anyone there could've been the target.” Looking down at the table, then into the intent eyes of his partner, Hutch brought up an uncomfortable line of thought. “Do you think Starsky and I might've been the target? After all, everyone knows where we hang out.”
“You mean retaliation?”
Both detectives nodded affirmatively.
“Nah, lots of folks know I'm in with you guys. They could get me anytime if they wanted, as payback. Why take out loads of innocent people?”
Hutch's eyes reflected sadness, as he thought of things he dealt with on a daily basis. “People do odd things for the wrong reasons. Besides, it's just a thought.”
“We need to find a motive as well as the bomber, so anything you can give us will help, even if it's something insignificant. Once the marshal figures out the kind of device used, we need to go through the books to see if we can come up with a match,” Starsky added while dishing up the eggs.
“First, let's check into José's past. See if he's got a record or if anything pops up that'll give us a lead.”
“José was my friend. Had no problems with the heat or on the streets. Him and Angela had a mess of hard times and were just getting back on their feet.”
“Yeah, well, we gotta check him out Hug. SOP,” Starsky explained, shoveling some eggs into his mouth.
Hutch pointed his fork at his friend. “Huggy, were you insured?”
“Sure. Done gave ‘em a ring already. Came out this morning. Already met ‘em at my…the bar.”
Around a mouthful, Starsky grinned. “Well that's good. Can't have you going back to any of your get-rich-quick schemes.”
Splaying his fingers outward on his chest to accentuate himself, Huggy protested, “Hey, I've always been gainfully employed.”
Hutch grinned at the supposedly affront man. “Employed, maybe, but gainfully?” He shook his head in mirth, lightening the mood at the table.
After they had finished their breakfast, Starsky cleared the table and recommended that Huggy go home and rest. “We're off today, but by tomorrow we should have more to work with, including the fire department's report.”
Most of the rest of the day was spent by the detectives brainstorming on ideas and the direction they planned to take the investigation. Huggy and Bonita stopped by later in the evening, along with Abby and Terry. The sextet attempted to avoid ‘shop talk' and Huggy's loss the rest of the evening, though it wasn't easy.
Monopoly didn't help, as each time Huggy landed on a property, all he could think about was the loss of his bar and talk about how hard it would be for him – a young, black man of the streets – to land another prime piece of property for his business.
* * * * * *
As expected, by the next morning the fire department's report and preliminary crime scene report were on Dobey's desk. The captain had yet to obtain the lab report on the remnant of the bomb, but he told his men to get started in their investigation, anyway. Once that last report was in his possession, he'd have a junior officer begin to review the books for any prior arsons or bombs that matched the m.o. or the device that discharged at Huggy Bear's.
Meanwhile, Starsky and Hutch began tracing the last days of José after they visited with two patrons of Huggy Bear's that were still in the hospital. Eventually they, or another officer, would have to contact all the survivors and the families of those who had died.
As Huggy had said, José's background was clean. He had built up quite a bit of debt due to his wife's successful battle with breast cancer, and was working at Huggy Bear's as a second job. Angela's – his wife – also had a clean background, and they hadn't had any threats for slow payment of their debts.
Turning to Dominic Maestrella, the owner of the building where Huggy's bar was located, all the detectives could dig up was a habit of paying his tax bills late. He told them he'd never been threatened, offered ‘protection', or had any problems with collectors, either.
By the end of the day, all the victims and survivors had been identified and the media began to impede the investigation by getting to the families before the police. Dobey was having a fit, so he assigned two other teams to work with Starsky and Hutchinson to help them interview those families before leads could be accidentally leaked to the press.
Starsky and Hutch took the six survivors and divided the victims' families and witnesses amongst the two other teams. Most of the survivors told of the same experiences:
“It was horrible. I couldn't breath and could barely see. If it wasn't for that big window getting broken and letting out most of the smoke, I probably would've bought it, too.”
“I was so confused. It was so loud and smoky. You saved my life, Detective. Those flames scared me. I couldn't move until you forced me to.”
“Oh, the noise! And that poor man. I saw him fly out the kitchen door – all blackened and smoking. He just flew across the room and hit the wall. I'll never forget that sight. Just horrible. I ran, followed the policeman – you – out the back door.”
“I kept trying to find another way out. The front door was packed with people. It was terrible. People were falling and they kept crying for help! I couldn't help them. I didn't have enough strength to get off the floor myself.”
“We were in the bathroom and heard this loud ‘whomp' and then some screams. Didn't know what was goin' on, so we just stayed put. Then the smoke started comin' in and I couldn't breathe. I don't remember much else.”
Meeting with and interviewing the survivors wasn't nearly as bad as reading the reports from the other detectives who dealt with the victims' families. They blamed the city, the building's owner, Huggy, God and even the survivors themselves, for the loss of their loved ones.
The witnesses' reports were even more horrifying. Two men from next door tried to pry free those stuck in the front doorway. Their interviews told of limbs entwined with one another so tightly that it was virtually impossible to remove any of the victims. Descriptions of fire licking at clothing and hair, the smell of burning flesh, whimpers of the dying, faces anguished, and eyes confused as their owners' heads eventually sank down as their bodies' fight was brought to a merciful end. Images that would haunt the two would-be rescuers until their dying days.
Reading these reports, and the anguish and terrifying emotions that permeated them, were hard on all the detectives. But Starsky and Hutch took them to heart since they were on site at the time of the tragedy, and because Huggy was their friend and confidants, and he knew these people. They vowed never to let him know of the details – both of the families' anger and the witnesses' distress.
* * * * * *
By the end of the third day after the fire, the Fire Marshal stunned Captain Dobey with his preliminary results. The report recommended the focus of the investigation be narrowed to one Mr. Huggy Bear Brown, proprietor of Huggy Bear's Bar and Grill'.
“And how the hell did you come up with this assumption?” Captain Dobey stood abruptly behind his desk when confronted by the lead team in the fire unit.
“The type of incendiary device lends credence that it was a make-shift bomb, put together with simplistic materials available to anyone. Also, there's been some evidence of Mr. Brown removing personal items from the location; the inordinately large amount of insurance, the fact that he left the premises during a busy night – which he's never been known to do before, and just prior to the bomb exploding. All of this begins to tie into arson for insurance proceeds.”
“All of which are easily explained,” interrupted Dobey.
“That's up to your department. But we'll be leaving a copy of our report with the commissioner. We've also notified his insurance company, and until the investigation by the police is completed, his payoff will be withheld.”
Dobey hated to say it, but he was not above playing race as an issue in order to help Huggy. “You do realize that you're denying an innocent man – a minority – a chance to better himself and promote the good he can do for others like himself, with these accusations?”
“If it's all the same to you, sir , we've seen many a person do this more often than not, when the evidence indicates such.” In other words, the fire investigators were not afraid of any threats by Captain Dobey or anyone else that they would accuse the fire department of prejudice just because Huggy was a black male that happened to run a bar in a low rent neighborhood.
After the men from the fire team exited his office, Dobey stood behind his desk and pulled at his short-cropped hair, knowing he would have to remove Starsky & Hutch from the lead of the investigation, but hating having to be the one to tell them. Besides which, Huggy Bear was a friend of his also, and he felt a brotherhood with the man after all Huggy had done to help Hutch earlier in the year when his blond detective was surreptitiously kicking his forced heroin habit.
“Damn it!” Sometimes Dobey hated being a captain; he wondered if the ulcer he occasionally suffered from was worth it. Knowing there was no use in putting off the inevitable any longer, he called in his top detective team to tell them the latest developments. Knowing them, however, he was sure they wouldn't take this news lying down.
Closing the door behind them, Dobey walked over and sat down at his desk, looking at the report sitting there.
“What's up, Captain? More information on the fire at Huggy's?” Hutch asked. They were still awaiting a rundown of possible suspects from R&I, from the results of the bomb's make-up.
“Just sit down, Hutchinson .” He waited until both men were seated and attentive.
“I don't know how to break this, but to say it.” He looked each of them directly in the eye. “You're being pulled from the investigation into the fire at Huggy Bear's.”
Immediately Starsky and Hutch began to protest, but Dobey put up a large hand in forewarning. “It appears, according to the fire marshal's preliminary report, that Huggy himself might've been involved. For this reason alone, you're too close.”
Both men were incredulous. “Come on, Cap! There's no way Huggy had anything to do with this. We know the man. You do too!”
“I know, Starsky, and I have a problem believing Huggy had anything to do with it, also. However, a copy of the preliminary fire report has been placed on the commissioner's desk and I have no other choice but to officially remove you.” He looked pointedly at Starsky and tilted his chin down with meaning.
The other men nodded in understanding.
Coughing, Hutch asked about the report. “So what ‘theories' has the fire marshal come up with that may implicate Huggy?”
“And what's the reasoning behind them?” Starsky asked.
“Well, first, Huggy left the bar early, which he's not known to do.”
“Easily explained,” Starsky said. “He's got a beautiful lady, Cap'n, and wanted some alone time with her.”
“He had a large sum of insurance on the business,” Dobey went on.
“That's his business, isn't it? A lot of small businesses are covered by an inordinate amount of insurance to cover their losses in the event something like this does happen,” Hutch reasoned.
Continuing, Dobey listed more reasons. “Apparently, he recently removed some personal items from the premises, also.”
Starsky got up and started pacing, frustrated with the lame ‘reasons' Dobey had listed. “He's got a new apartment, Cap'n!”
“I know there're some reasonable explanations for all this, Starsky, but added up together, it looks suspicious.”
“What're we gonna tell Huggy, Hutch? He's gonna be upset.”
“We'll, he'll have more to worry about than you two being yanked from the case.”
Starsky's head swiveled abruptly from his partner to his superior. “What's that supposed to mean?”
“Just that the insurance company payoff will be held back until – and unless – he's been cleared. Not to mention the possibility of insurance fraud, attempted murder, and murder charges.”
Slamming his fist of the chair arm, Hutch swore. “Damn. He needs that to get back on his feet.” He dismissed the other charges, knowing there was no basis for them and that Huggy would be cleared if they had anything to do with it.
“I know. Just…do what you can, without interfering to in the official police investigation.” Then, pointing his pencil at them, Dobey warned them. “I don't want to hear anything you've got until you've got some proof. When you get it, bring it to me. Otherwise, Hayes and Remington'll be heading up the investigation from here on out.” Waving the same hand, he dismissed them. “Now, go. Finish up what you've got and give it to them. Then get back out there and do your jobs.”
Back at their desks, Starsky frowned. “Shit, Hutch, this sucks. I don't know what to tell Huggy.”
“The truth, I guess, Starsk. Keeping it from him will only hurt him in the long run.”
Grimacing at his partner, Starsky reluctantly agreed, “I guess.”
* * * * * *
As they suspected, Huggy Bear was still asleep when they arrived at his apartment later that morning. He wasn't pleased about being woken up earlier than his norm, and when Starsky and Hutch saw a glimpse of Bonita in the bedroom doorway, dressed in a cream-colored nylon robe, they knew why.
They grinned at each other, despite the situation.
“Hey, uh, Hug, we'd come back later, but it's important.”
Seemingly holding up the doorframe with his arm, Huggy sighed, “Yeah, with you, Starsky, it always is.” Looking back into his apartment, he pulled the door open more. “I guess you guys want to come in.”
Both detectives entered and closed the door behind them. Hutch flicked the light switch next to the door to brighten the dark interior, causing Huggy to wince while his eyes adjusted.
“Got some bad news, Huggy.”
“What else is new? That comes with the territory with you two.”
“We've been removed from the investigation. It's uh… They're focusing on, uh… Well, the fire marshal thinks you may have had something to do with it,” Starsky finally got out.
Huggy was stunned into silence; Bonita however was not. “What! Huggy wouldn't hurt a fly. Doesn't even keep a gun and he should, given where his place is at.” Her eyes narrowed, “I'll bet it's some white stiffs setting him up.”
Hutch raised his hands to placate her. “Hold on. There's just some circumstantial evidence at this point, however, it's enough to hold the insurance company from settling payment on Huggy.”
“Huh? No money? Why the hell'd I get it in the first place? How'm I supposed to get set up again?”
Pointedly Starsky told him, that “until we can clear you Huggy, you'll have to get a job.”
“We?” He looked back and forth between his two law enforcement friends. “I thought you said you and Hutch were off the case?”
The two detectives looked at each other, reading similar thoughts. “Dobey has given us unofficial permission to look around. As long as we don't get in the way of the official investigation itself.”
“Well, at least I got you guys and the Marshall on my side. But what happens if ya'll can't find anything to pin this on someone else?”
Hutch explained how it would work. “They'd still have to find evidence that you planted the bomb and a motive why. Right now, if they filed charges, they wouldn't stand a chance. The few little things the department's concerned about can be readily explained.”
“But added all together, they don't look so hot as a starting place.” Starsky reiterated. “But don't you worry Hug. We'll get ‘em. We'll find out what happened, and why.”
“We're going to check into the background of every person that was there that night. It's a long shot, but it's all we've got right now. Minnie gave Starsky a list of all the names and background information of the victims and survivors, so anything you can help us with would be great.”
“Yeah, well Starsky always did have a way of charming a snake from the basket-holder.”
“Hey Minnie's one of the good guys – er, gals.” Starsky corrected for Bonita's benefit.
Flaying his hands in front of him, Huggy deferred. “I know, I know. I was just saying that Minnie has a slight of hand like the best of us.”
The two detectives walked back over the doorway to leave. “Well, we'll leave you to your ‘rest'. Try not to worry, okay?” Hutch added with a wink, as he closed the door behind him.
* * * * * *
Unfortunately several days later, things were looking even worse for Huggy. In talking with Hayes and Remington, Starsky and Hutch discovered that they had found out about an argument Huggy had with Jose at his house two weeks prior to the fire. Concerned, they decided to talk directly to Angela, Jose's wife, before work. Already, Huggy'd been warned by the police to stay away from the survivors and their families, and the victims' families.
Angela was not unhappy to see the two detectives and invited them into her humble two-bedroom apartment on Fulton . “No matter what anyone says, I don't believe Huggy had anything to do with the fire.” She immediately told them.
Starsky and Hutch looked at each other. Is there a leak?
“Why do you say that?”
“The two officers here yesterday alluded in their questions that Huggy was the focus of their investigation. I read between the lines and put two and two together.”
Hutch leaned forward on the couch and placed his arms on his thighs. “We heard that Huggy and Jose had a recent fight. Can you tell us anything about it?”
Waving her hands and rolling her eyes, Angela explained. “Jose was working two jobs. I recently had some surgery and…we needed the extra money. I've been trying to find a job, too. This is hard…” she sniffled.
“Go on, take your time.” Hutch gently coaxed.
“Well, he'd been tired a lot from working so many hours. So he, uh, he started taking some uppers.” She looked up at the men with teary eyes. It was obvious that admitting her husband had been taking an illegal substance hurt. “I don't know where he got them, I didn't ask. I wanted him to stop, but he was killing himself taking care of me, our son, and working two jobs.”
A s they waited silently for her to continue, Starsky reached behind him to pull his handkerchief from his back pocket and handed it to her to dab her eyes.
Composing herself, Angela continued while wringing the cloth between her hands. “Anyway, Huggy found out and came over a couple of weeks ago to talk to Jose. He was worried about him.” She looked directly at them. “I don't know exactly what they said, they went into the bedroom, but it wasn't a loud argument. I told those other detectives that.” Her eyes pleaded with them. “He just wanted to help Jose. Huggy's a friend.”
“He's our friend too, and that's why we want to see that whoever did this, pays for it.”
“And get Huggy's name cleared.” Added Starsky.
“If there's anything else you can help us with…anything you remember Jose mentioning. Please let us know. Here's our number.” Hutch wrote down their private lines, so that any calls wouldn't be traced on the police lines.
“I've racked my brain and can't come up with anything. If I did, should I call you or the other detectives?”
“Call us both. But don't let on to Hayes and Remington that you've notified us.” Starsky shoved the handkerchief Angela handed back to him into his jacket pocket as he stood up.
After the two detectives left, they drove off to the precinct. Every item listed against Huggy could be readily explained, however taken together all added up to serious circumstantial evidence. Not enough to file charges, but enough for the police to continue to look deeper into the entrepreneur's background.
“You don't seriously think he had anything to do with this, Hutch?” Starsky was incredulous of Hutch's line of thought regarding the evidence.
“Of course not. But we have to look at it from the outside to figure out how to help him.”
They continued to ride in silence, each lost in his own thoughts, as they racked their brains with ways to help their friend.
“I have a feeling this is going to take some time.” Hutch mused out loud.
“It figures.”
* * * * * *
The following week Huggy got official word from the insurance company in the form of a letter that they were sending an investigative team to work along side the Bay City Police and Fire Departments to determine culpability and if he was ‘deserving' of payoff for his destroyed property. Or at least that's how he saw it.
Upset, he asked Starsky and Hutch where the police stood – and more importantly if they had turned anything up. In the meantime he needed to find work. Bonita offered to help get him into a job at City Hall where she worked. With his wide experiences, personal charm, and the fact he was a black man, was sure to give him a head above many other applicants, but Huggy wouldn't go for any “stiff shirt-desk riding job”, as he put it. He liked being his own boss, so he went back to various street jobs, eventually landing an interview at a travel agency.
Hutch chuckled at the thought of Huggy in a tie. “I thought you said you didn't want a desk job, Hug?”
“Well, it's got great perks. If I rack up enough sales, I can earn a free trip to Mexico with my lovely lady.”
“That'll impress her. Maybe enough to overlook the apparel.”
“Very funny. Not all of us can be blond, beautiful, and built, Mr. All American. Besides, I have a rep to maintain.” Huggy pulled at the lapels of his fabulously bright fuschia overcoat.
“And does your street rep say you have to look like a chocolate ice cream cone dipped in cherry?”
“All right you two, you can debate haute couture another time, let's get back to the matter at hand.”
“Haute couture, Starsk? When did you pick up an encyclopedia and read it while I wasn't looking?”
“Stick it where the sun don't shine Blondie.”
Huggy directed the conversation back to his problem and some street information he had obtained on three his patrons that he thought needed bearing out. Two of the deceased had money problems. One from gambling, the other with a ‘lender'. One of the survivors had a big drug problem and the word on him was that his provider wanted him to start dealing to pay off some of his debt.
Starsky and Hutch agreed that they would be worth looking into next, and headed back to work in case anyone was looking for them. They would use the early evening, when most of the office personnel had gone home, to search the database for any hits on their three subjects or the men who were reputed to have issues with them.
Hopefully something would strike soon.
* * * * * *
None of the parties putting the screws on the dead men paid off. However, a lead on the drug dealer – a mid level slimy jerk names Jack Kilgore – looked promising. His deals came from a higher-up named Rico Maniguez. Talking to Kilgore's associates gave Starsky and Hutch an idea that Rico was behind the bombing – not Kilgore. Figuring this was a chance to kill two birds with one stone – putting away a high-end supplier while solving the bombing and clearing Huggy's name – they went to Dobey to present their findings and ask to be put back on the case with Hayes and Remington.
The two men stood in front of their Captain's desk pleading their case while ping-ponging their theory to him.
“Cap'n, this guy Marks owes over five grand to Kilgore and Maniguez.”
“So Kilgore offers him a way to knock the debt down by dealing to some of his upper-class neighbors, but Marks declines.”
“Right, and it turns out Maniguez also has a beef against Huggy.”
“In the meantime, Marks' bills continue to go unpaid and Maniguez steps in to handle the situation himself.”
“So Maniguez thinks he can get both Huggy and Marks at the same time. He has Kilgore arrange a meeting with Marks at Huggy Bear's.”
“Kilgore never shows up, we know that.” Hutch interrupts.
Starsky continued, “By luck Marks survives the explosion and fire, but they're still able to direct investigators toward Huggy and not only kill his business, but maybe get him arrested.” He tapped his finger forcefully on the large desk.
“What's Maniguez' beef with Huggy Bear?”
Pulling back to stand upright, Starsky finished up. “We think he's not too happy with Huggy's role as a neighborhood drug watch.”
“You think!” Dobey shot back. “Have long have you two yahoos been on the force? You've gotta have more than assumptions to take to the D.A.”
“We want permission to work with Hayes and Remington to bring in Kilgore and see if he spills. He's wanted on an outstanding drug warrant. We make a deal to drop those charges he's facing in order to get his cooperation with Maniguez. In the meantime, we're checking out the libraries to see if either Kilgore or any other of Maniguez' known associates have checked out any books that may clue them into the bomb's make-up.”
“And if he doesn't, where does that leave you?”
“We'll make him talk.” Using his forefinger, Hutch made that vow.
“That comes awful close to insubordination, Hutchinson ”
“Take it as you want Captain. But I made a promise and I don't intend on breaking it.” The taller man turned and walked out of the office.
“That goes for me too.” And Starsky proceed to follow his partner out.
Dobey stood up and yelled after them. “You two're walking a fine line, you know! Damn.” He muttered to himself, knowing they probably weren't listening.
With the help of Huggy Bear, Jack Kilgore was traced to a single room dwelling above a small, tucked away bar on Ninth. Since the case still belonged officially to Hayes and Remington, those two brought him in on suspicion of coercion and murder when several trade books were discovered checked out by him at the local library.
Brian Hayes was an older cop with many years street experience before making detective, while his partner Joe Remington was fairly new to the division, so Brian took the lead role of ‘bad cop' as a familiar one. Starsky and Hutch stood back in the observation room where they could see the proceedings through the one-way window. A stenographer stayed in the room to take down everything Kilgore would relate, including hopefully, a confession and a lead to Maniguez. Most of the questioning regarded any connection between the Marks and Maniguez and Kilgore's role as go-between.
Finally, after 2 hours of browbeating and withholding fluids, Kilgore admitted that Maniguez told him that “something needed to be done about Marks” when he refused to push cocaine.
“And what was that something?” Remington quietly asked the shaking man.
Kilgore shook his head as if to say, ‘don't make me tell', but he didn't voice the words.
“Come on Kilgore, we already know what he told you to do. We just need you to confirm it for us and tell us how you planted that bomb.” Remington tried to coerce the information out. “You've got so much hanging on your neck. The more you tell us, the better it'll be on you.”
“You don't know Maniguez, he's got ears. Within five minutes of talking, he'll know.”
“No he won't. We've got officers ready to bring him in as soon as you tell us the hows and whys of the attempted murder of Tom Marks. All we need from you is a statement. And then we get the D.A. to drop all the outstanding charges against you that don't pertain to this case.”
Bleary eyes looked up and squinted in the bright lights and white glare of the room. “And where's that leave me? Alone and unprotected in the brink where anyone can take me out. Maniguez has lots of arms in this city.”
“We'll put you in a private cell if you don't make bail.” Assured Remington. “And if you do, you'll have police protection.”
Hayes beat a succession of questions. “Come on now, Kilgore, tell us how you planted that bomb? When'd you get into Huggy Bear's? Where'd you get the materials? Why'd Maniguez order the hit? Who else helped you?”
Reluctantly and haltingly, he explained how he developed the bomb and planted it at Huggy Bear's when no one was around. It turned out his step-brother was an expert locksmith who used his knowledge for the other side of the law on occasion. So it was easy for them to get in that morning before Huggy opened up his bar, and plant the bomb.
“I swear it was all Rico's idea though!” The tired and broken man cried out.
“Why Huggy's?”
Good question, Remington. Starsky thought still watching behind the window, and Hutch chimed in, thinking the same thing out loud .
“Yeah, tell us why they targeted Huggy.”
Back inside the interrogation room, Kilgore admitted that Rico Meniguez wanted Huggy “removed” from the neighborhood because of his link with “the two cops.”
“You know ‘em. That curly headed and blond haired ones that drive that bright red Ford with the broad stripe? They've been making trouble for Rico for awhile and he figured if he could get Huggy removed, then they'd lose their clout on the streets. And to teach anyone else a lesson before they started running to the cops.”
“Damn!” Whispered Dobey, who was in the observation room with his two detectives. “I knew eventually Huggy would be a liability.”
Starsky whipped his head back to look at his captain. “Hey! Huggy ain't no liability. He's a friend, and a damn good informant”
“But he's too visible. Everyone on the streets know that he's your snitch now.” The larger man pointed out.
“So what? Most of the people talk to him because they know he can get ahold of us. This way they can pass information to police without actually having to come to us and putting themselves in jeopardy.”
“Well, I'd better get the ball rolling and see about getting the D.A. to put out a warrant for Rico Maniguez based on Kilgore's testimony. You two go with Hayes and Remington and make sure Kilgore is booked for attempted murder and conspiracy to murder. He's not gonna get off the murder charges. We'll see if the D.A. will agree to lighten the sentence, due to his cooperation, but 15 people died in that fire and no one associated is going to get off.”
With pleasure Starsky and Hutch marched Jack Kilgore down to holding and watched while Hayes and Remington booked him as their collar. After making sure he was secure in a private holding cell, they went back to Dobey's office to get the warrant for Rico Maniguez and headed off to his place before they let Huggy know he was off the hook for responsibility of the fire. This way in case things didn't work out as planned, Huggy's hopes wouldn't be dashed.
* * * * * *
Rico Maniguez lived off Valerian in a suburb of Bay City . He drove a custom copper-colored Trans Am to match his skin tone. Announcing his presence to the lower class neighborhoods every time he ventured there.
As Starsky and Hutch pulled to the side of the road, they saw Maniguez' custom car, indicating he was home. Which immediately drew Starksy's attention.
“Down boy.”
The car fanatic detective pretended a look of innocence. “I didn't say anything.”
“I know what you're thinking.” Hutch pointed to his temple. “And no, you can't drive it. Vice'll confiscate it as evidence.”
“Just one look Hutch?” He pleaded.
“NO! Remember? Huggy?”
“Yeah, you're right. Maniguez first. But afterward?” His face looked hopeful with a puppy dog expression in his bright blue eyes.
“Once we cuff Maniguez, you can look to your heart's delight.” Starsky's face beamed back. “ Look I said; not test drive.”
The beam diminished a degree, but one more little push was all he needed to change Hutch's mind. First things first…
Grabbing their walkie talkies, Hutch confirmed that the back-up officers were in position behind the house.
Crouching low and sneaking up the front lawn, they pulled their guns and took position. Starsky at the side of the door, Hutch by the large picture window.
Starsky knocked at the door and issued an order. “Police; open up.”
Nothing….
He tried again and was greeted by a single gunshot splintering the wooden door, but missing the dark haired detective.
Nodding once to his partner, Starsky kicked in the door and twirled once to the other side of the doorway. No more gunshots followed.
Hutch ordered the back-up officers to close in to avoid Maniguez and his gang from escaping out the back.
By unspoken agreement Hutch stayed outside on the porch to catch any escapees, unless his partner or the back-ups had need of him. So Starsky swiveled quickly with his gun at chest level as he entered the darkened foyer. Sliding against the wall, he slowly canvassed the living room, swinging his gun in that direction.
Empty.
Turning abruptly to the left he entered the den. Checking quickly through some papers, until he heard commotion coming from the back. He holstered his gun and pulled out the walkie talkie. “Hutch? Clear up front. I think Hayes and his guys got ‘em.”
Static….
“Hayes? Remington?” Starsky tried to reach the Sergeants in charge of the back-up officers. Again all he heard was static.
Pulling his Smith & Wesson again, Starsky snaked down the main hallway toward the back of the house continuing to hug the plaster wall. As he made his way toward the kitchen, a dark shadow from the right caught his attention. Not knowing if it was a cop or a crook, he held silent for several seconds.
Abruptly and from behind he heard Hutch shouting for him. The shadow also heard, and moved quickly. Starsky jumped into position and held his gun on the man as he raced out. “Freeze. Right there.”
Not heeding, the crook tried to lunge away and received a graze from Starsky's gun to his upper leg to prevent him from escaping.
“Back here Hutch!” He yelled as he went to cuff his suspect. The suspect was squirming and Starsky had difficulty handling the tall man. A uniformed officer arrived before his partner, to help him contain the suspect and get him on his feet.
“You're gonna be sorry sucker that you stayed behind to get me.” The man spat at Starsky's feet onto the linoleum floor.
The shorter detective jerked him forward by his lapels. “Oh yeah? Is that a threat? You gonna come after me?”
“Ain't gonna have to. We're gonna be dead in about 1 minute.” He cackled, his face taking on a crazed appearance.
Meanwhile, Hutch had moved upstairs, not understanding Starsky's yell or seeing his partner in the dimness of the house. The walkie talkies still weren't receiving or sending any signals, and he didn't want to yell and give his or his partner's position away in the event someone was listening. Hutch took a cursory glance into each room upstairs, not finding anyone. At the back end of the hallway there was another set of stairs leading down to the rear of the first floor. He heard voices coming from down that way, and cautiously made his way down, to see if he could lend a hand.
“What do you mean, dead?” Asked the uniformed cop in the kitchen with Starsky. But the cuffed suspect wouldn't answer.
Starsky looked to his left in the kitchen and noticed the microwave was on. They're running; microwave's going; shit! The static! He put two and two together realizing now why there was disruption in the radio waves that the walkie talkies used . “The microwave's a bomb!” He shoved the suspect into the uniformed cop toward the back door.
“HUUUUUTCH!” He knew his partner was here somewhere, but where? He ran back down the hallway toward the front of the house, not realizing Hutch was on his way down the steps behind him.
Hearing his partner's voice this time, Hutch jumped down the last few stairs and turned the corner of the landing into the main hallway. “Starsky! Back here!”
Turning at the sound of his partner's voice, Starsk ran toward him while yelling for him to ‘get out'. Damnit Blintz, run! “BOMB Hutch!”
Eyes dawning with understanding, Hutch began running toward the front rather than turning and going out the back door, even though it was closer. Protect Starsky! Was all he thought. As he reached his partner, Starsky shoved both of them hard toward the open front door. Hutch landed first on the cement porch, underneath Starsky who fell onto Hutch's left side and his stiff leather holster. Just then a loud blast sounded and the back walls of the house folded in on themselves.
Wood, siding, and other materials fell onto of the two men huddled on the porch. Getting off Hutch, while brushing the pieces the house off him, Starsky groaned. His ribs hurt from where he fell on Hutch. Extending a hand to Hutch, he asked if he was okay.
“I'm fine, Starsk. What was that about?”
“There was an explosive device in the microwave. That's why our walkie talkies wouldn't work. Let's go check on the other guys.” He stumbled a bit, and Hutch held out his hands to steady him.
“Whoa Starsk. What about you? Are you okay?”
“Just some bruised ribs. Come on.” He took off toward the back, Hutch following behind with his gun still drawn.
Running through the yard of the house next door, they saw several uniforms dragging up three men from behind several parked black and whites. One of them was Rico Maniguez.
“You guys okay?” Starsky asked as he ran toward them.
Confirming, Sergeant Brown called for the fire department. Luckily there were no injuries…
Until Starsky and Hutch rounded the front of the house after seeing Maniguez and his gang off, and found a large piece of the roof of the house had landed on top of the Trans Am and smashed the hood and front end.
“Aw man Hutch, look! The car!”
Rolling his eyes, Hutch directed his partner out to the street, toward his own car. “Poor baby. You'll survive.”
“But Hutch! That was a classic. Metallic bronze, custom colored, 1974 Pontiac Trans Am Super Duty 455. Do you know how rare and beautiful a car like that is?”
“Do you know how much money it costs to upkeep?” Smacking his head with his palm, Hutch answered his own question. “What am I saying? This from the guy who spends $75 on tires for his candy colored wheels.”
“That's more than you spent for your entire car.” Starsky grumbled.
A long arm dropped over his shoulder. “Come on buddy, let's leave the clean up to the Fire Department and Vice.”
Frowning and still mourning the destruction of the Trans Am, Starsky pulled away and they headed off to the precinct to book Maniguez and his co-horts.
Once they had concluded up their business at Metro, including their reports and a wrap up with Dobey, Starsky and Hutch went to Huggy's apartment to tell him the good news.
While happy to be cleared, and assured that the insurance company would be notified right away, Huggy was still down about the loss of his friends and patrons and his business. “Do you know how long it took me to build up that place?”
“Open a new place with the insurance money and build up new clientele. We'll patronize your place no matter where in the city you set up.” Hutch assured him.
Rolling his eyes, Huggy joked, “that's what I'm afraid of.”
“No matter what Hug, we'll be there for you.” Starsky patted Huggy's silk encased arm.
“Yeah it don't surprise me none Maniguez wasn't tickled about our mutual esteem, but I don't care. You're my buds and scum like that needs to get off the streets, polluting bodies and hurtin' people.”
“Don't worry about him anymore. He's going away for a long time. He's got 15 deaths to account for.”
Starsky was bouncing up and down. “We gotta run Hug. I gotta see Merle about a car.”
Outside, Hutch stopped Starsky and questioned him warily. “A car? Something wrong with the Tomato?”
Grinning impishly, Starsky quipped. “Nope. He's fixing up Maniguez' Trans Am. I'm gonna see about giving it a test drive it for him before he sells it back to the department for the Auction.”
Hutch groaned. “Why do I even ask? I think I'll walk back, buddy.”
“Get in the car Hutch. It ain't done yet. I'll drive you back to where you left your precious squash. The city dump.” He added under his breath.
“Do you think Huggy'll get another place?” Hutch asked, once they were on their way.
“I'd bet on it. He's gotta keep up his rep for the ladies. It'll probably be a bit before his insurance check comes through though. But Huggy'll land. Count on it.”
Chuckling, and pleased to have cleared the case, they drove off to find out what else awaited them……