‘TIL DEATH DO US PART
By Lark
Prologue
The shadows lengthened as day gradually lost the battle with night. The two men were alone. Their battle was over. In the darkening room one looked deeply into the other's eyes; eyes that no longer saw, no longer cared. He stared, hoping yet again to find what he had been seeking for years. But he saw nothing, only the vacant look of death. Eventually he closed the eyes, not out of a sense of respect but rather out of a sense of failure.
Brassard stepped back and looked around the room, only now noticing that night had fallen. Glancing absently out the window at the well-lit street below he gazed at the people that passed by. Should he look for another tonight? There were many to choose from. And yet he had felt unsatisfied with his last three guests. None had stayed long and none had revealed to him what he most sought.
His mind wandered, reflecting upon another guest, the proverbial one who got away. That one had been different. There had been something in him that he had not sensed in any of the others. Brassard felt it from the moment the man had walked in the room. He had been sure that the dark-haired man would be the one to tell him so much. And yet, in the end, he had not. In fact, he had lived. Brassard had been amazed. No other had managed that, and there had been many.
In fairness to himself Brassard had to admit that he had not counted on the other man or the bond that the two shared. Even so, once he realized the importance of the other Brassard had still miscalculated the strength in that bond. He would not do that again.
He turned away from the window and looked at the body that hung from the ceiling. This one had been a particularly unaccommodating guest. Oh, he had been easy enough to lure up here and had even agreed to be chained to the ceiling, unaware that Brassard was not interested in some aberrant sex act. But as soon as the young man realized what was happening, his mind turned inward, unable to deal with any of it. Brassard had lost interest rapidly and ended the visit quickly. There was nothing left to see when the man's physical death arrived, what constituted the man had quietly slipped away long before the body caught up.
Brassard sighed. When he had started on his quest he had thought that the answers he sought would come easily. And some did. With each subsequent catch he learned more, honed his skills until he became quite adept at keeping someone alive well past the point where they wished they were dead. True, none had learned to embrace the pain, but he never really expected them to. He knew that there were few capable of realizing how pure pain was.
But despite all that he had learned, his holy grail remained just out of reach. If asked to put a name to it, he would have called it the soul, the essence of what makes each living being different from any other. Brassard believed that pain brought a clarity to that essence that no other experience could. And he fervently believed that to capture it at the moment of greatest pain and fear, as it fled the just dead shell would be to capture life itself, to take on an immortality and understanding beyond his wildest dreams.
David was the key. He knew that now. All of the others had been merely preparation for this one man, the one who would help him to fulfill his destiny.
Brassard had much to prepare if he was to be ready for his next meeting with David. He glanced at the dead man who hung nearby and thought briefly of disposing of the body, noticing only now that he bore a superficial resemblance to David. No, he would leave it. A small calling card to let David know that he was not far away.
*********************
“Starsky it will be fun. Come on.”
“No way, Hutch. ‘She has a great personality’, you might as well say she has a moustache. You go. I’m just gonna stay home and watch Gaslight on the early late show.”
“Laura won’t go if she doesn’t have a date for Kim. It’s only this one time. Kim goes home the day after tomorrow.”
“Hutch, you’ve only been seeing Laura a week, you’re not joined at the hip yet. What’s the big deal if you don’t do anything tonight?”
“Do it as a favor to me.”
“Hutch...”
“Listen, I’ll tell you what, the next time your cousin Rosalee is in town I’ll take her out.”
“Rosalee’s a great girl.”
“Yeah, and if I remember correctly she can see in two directions at the same time.”
“That’s not nice.”
Hutch simply stared at his partner.
“All right, all right, I’ll do it. But I’m calling Rosalee tomorrow and letting her know how much you’re looking forward to seeing her again.”
***********
“Not exactly the cover of Better Homes and Gardens, is it?” Starsky said as he looked at the house that he and Hutch had just pulled in front of.
Hutch doubled checked the address on the paper that Laura had given him. "It's the right house. Number four-eighty Montcalm Street."
"It looks like it should be condemned."
Hutch had to agree. The paint on the small, ranch style house was cracked and peeling in places. In others it actually bubbled and looked almost as if it was running, reminding him of boils on a cankerous surface. Most of the windows were either boarded up or heavily shaded, only adding to the look of desolation. The small front yard was overgrown with weeds and what was left of the picket fence that once surrounded it lay decaying and useless.
In stark contrast, the houses on either side looked neat and well kept. Neither showed the amount of disrepair that this one did.
"Hutch, it's not too late, we can still turn around and go home. The movie hasn't started yet and I can make plenty of popcorn for the two of us. Whadda say?"
"We can't. They've probably seen us already."
As if on cue, the front door of the house opened and out walked two women.
Starsky whistled. "Hutch, which one is Kim?"
"The one on the right."
“Well maybe this won’t be so bad after all.” Starsky watched Kim as she approached the car. She was small, with auburn hair and pretty features. She was definitely not what he was expecting.
As the women drew nearer, both men got out to open doors for them.
Laura, taller than Kim and more classically good looking, gave Hutch a quick kiss before introducing Kim.
“Kim, I'd like you to meet Ken Hutchinson. And must be David."
Greetings were made all around
As they settled into the car, Laura said, "You'll have to excuse the house. It's a bit of an eyesore. I just recently inherited it from a Great Aunt who died. She hadn't lived here in years and obviously did not have anyone looking after the place. Pretty terrible, isn't it?"
"It is a bit of a fixer-upper," Hutch answered carefully.
"Always the diplomat," Laura laughed. "We just stopped by to check on the inside. A realtor is coming by tomorrow and I needed to finish up a few things before he arrives. Unfortunately, the inside isn't in much better shape than the outside."
"Enough about houses," Starsky piped in. "So how does dinner and dancing sound to you ladies?"
***********
"Let's sit this one out," Kim said as she took Starsky's hand and led him off the dance floor and back to their table.
"So, what made you decide to become a policeman?" she asked as she leaned in close to Starsky.
"My dad was a cop. I guess I always wanted to grow up to be just like him."
"He must be very proud."
Starsky looked down at his drink. "He died when I was just a kid."
"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to…"
"It's O.K. You didn't know. But if he was still here I hope that he would be proud."
Kim changed the subject. "You and Hutch are pretty close, aren't you?"
"Yeah. We are."
"I guess that you would have to be. I mean, in your line of work you need to really trust the person who is backing you up."
Starsky nodded. "I trust Hutch with my life."
"And does he trust his with you?"
"Sure."
"Are you?"
Starsky looked at her oddly. "What do you mean? Of course I am. We've both risked our lives for the other. What kind of question is that?"
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I'm such a fool. I've just never had anyone who would do that for me." She reached into her purse for a tissue.
"Hey, no, I'm sorry. I'm not upset, really. Listen, do you want to get out of here? We could go back to my place and talk. It's a lot quieter. Hutch won't mind catching a cab with Laura."
"Sounds great."
"Good. Let me just go and let Hutch know."
Kim watched as Starsky made his way across the dance floor to where Laura and Hutch were dancing. She glanced at her watch and then caught Laura's eye. Laura nodded her head slightly then smiled to herself. Things were going even better than they had expected. So far the boys were making things easy for them.
***********
"David and Kim seemed to hit it off," Laura said as she sat down on Hutch's couch.
Walking in from the kitchen, Hutch handed her a drink and sat next to her. "It looked that way."
They sat together and talked for a while, Hutch enjoying the easy give and take of their conversation. It had been a long time since he had been with a woman who was not only beautiful and intelligent but also accepted his partnership with Starsky. Too many women felt in competition with that friendship, but Laura accepted it for what it was, at least so far.
Eventually Laura rose from the couch and reached out to take Hutch's hand, leading him into the bedroom. She guided him to the edge of the bed where they paused, Hutch bending over to kiss her. They lingered, enjoying the natural feel of the embrace. Laura then leaned into Hutch until he found himself sitting on the bed, Laura in his lap. He reached out and with great care unhurriedly began to unbutton her blouse. Once finished, he slid it off of her with equal care. From the player in the other room Sarah Vaughn singing What'll I Do drifted in.
Laura heard the song and quite unexpectedly found herself beginning to cry. Hutch noticed and gently brushed the tears from her face.
“Hey, it’s alright, we don’t need to do this. I didn’t mean to…”
Laura looked into Hutch’s eyes and shook her head, placing her fingers on his mouth to silence him. She continued to hold his gaze as she reached out and, with a care that mirrored his, undid and removed his shirt.
Hutch kissed her again, this time letting his hands explore her as he did. Laura closed her eyes and swayed slightly, enjoying the feel of his hands on her.
They took their time, discovering what the other liked, until eventually they lay next to one another in bed, exhausted and content.
Laura watched as Hutch drifted off to sleep. Silently she wished that things could be different, that she had met him under other circumstances. She briefly thought about simply returning the money that had been paid to her and forgetting the whole deal but she quickly dismissed that idea. As attracted as she was to Ken, she was more afraid of crossing the man who had hired her. In fact, she was sorry that she had ever gotten involved with him. There was something about him that made her distinctly uncomfortable. She would be glad when the whole business was over.
Gently leaning over, she kissed Hutch. He sighed in his sleep but did not wake up.
“Goodbye Ken,” Laura whispered as she slid out of the bed. She quickly gathered her clothes and then, as she had been instructed, found Hutch’s badge. With a last glance at the sleeping man, she quietly let herself out of the apartment.
*********************
The women entered the darkened house. The hour was early and the sun had not risen yet. It would not have mattered if it had; the boards and heavy shades over the windows allowed little light to enter even at mid-day. A lantern set on a small table in the corner cast a faint circle of light, illuminating little of the room.
“Brassard, are you here?” Laura called out tentatively.
For a moment Brassard did not respond, choosing to study the women instead. He had selected them for their appearance; both were young and attractive, the kind of women that most men found appealing. The taller one was even moderately intelligent. Of course, they needed some ‘cleaning up’ before they had been ready to carry out the task he required of them but that was a small matter. They had been more than willing to do what was needed considering the sum of money he had offered them.
“Brassard?” Laura called again.
“Do you have the things I requested?”
Laura strained to see the man who stood just outside of the lantern’s faint glow. “Yes.”
“Wonderful. You both have done well.”
Kim spoke up. “How about our money?”
“All business, aren’t we my dear? Then business it is. Please place them on the table.”
“Not before we see the money.”
Brassard chuckled softly. It was not a sound that held any humor.
“I’m afraid that payment will not be forthcoming.”
“What is this?” Kim asked. Like Laura, she too was sorry that they had ever taken this job. Brassard had given her the creeps from the beginning. There was something about him that made her skin crawl whenever she was near him. But they had both needed the money.
“Listen Brassard,” Kim continued in a voice that did not quite hide the undertone of fear that she was now feeling, “either pay us or we’re out of here. I’m sure those two cops would be very interested in knowing about you.”
“Oh, but they already do know me, my dear. And with your help I am going to ensure that we rekindle our acquaintance.”
Laura grabbed the badge that she had and threw it in the direction of the table. “Take it,” she said. “I don’t want any money and I won’t talk to the police. I just want to leave.”
“Laura…” Kim started.
“You do what you want but I’m getting out of here.”
Neither woman made it as far as the door.
*********************
“Hey, Blondie,” Starsky said as Hutch climbed into the car. “I’m a big enough man to admit when I’m wrong and boy was I wrong about Kim.”
“Good time last night?”
“All I can say is that Kim is one imaginative girl. I’m just sorry she left before I got up. An encore performance would have been fun.”
“Funny, Laura was gone before I got up too.”
Starsky shrugged off the coincidence. “Maybe they wanted to compare notes.
“You know,” Starsky continued, “I would never have believed that there were so many different things that you could do with…”
Starsky was cut off by the sound of the dispatcher’s voice.
“Zebra Three, Captain Dobey would like you to report to his office immediately. Do you copy?”
“On our way. Zebra Three out.”
“All right Starsky, what did you do that Dobey needs to call us before our shift even begins?”
“Can’t think of a thing. Do you think that we have enough time to stop for breakfast?”
“Only if you want Dobey even angrier than he probably already is.”
“I guess not. Well, as I was saying, you would not believe…”
***********
Dobey was standing in his office door when the two detectives walked into the squad room.
“Starsky, Hutchinson, in my office now.”
As the two officers entered their captain’s office, he ordered them to close the door. When he had their full attention he said, “Let me see your badges.”
“What’s this about?”
“Now, Starsky!”
Both men reached into their pockets to pull out the billfolds that held their badges and I.D.’s. They flipped them open and almost in unison looked at each other and then at Dobey with shocked expressions.
“They’re gone,” Hutch said, stating the obvious.
Dobey did not look surprised. “Where were you two last night?”
“We double-dated,” Hutch stammered. “We were together until about midnight and then we each went our separate ways with our dates. Why?”
“Two women, one blond and one a red-head were found dead early this morning. The station received an anonymous call at approximately six o’clock a.m. by a man stating that the police might be interested in something he had left at a house on Montcalm Street. When the unit arrived, they found two women, throats slashed and hanging from the ceiling by their wrists. Each woman had a badge pinned to her forehead. Your badges.”
Dobey watched as his detectives sang slowly into chairs. They both looked as if they were about to be ill.
The captain softened his tone some. “There was more.” He looked directly at Starsky. “Each women had something carved into her chest. One had the letter G, the other had and R.”
It was a moment before the significance of what Dobey had said sank in.
“Brassard,” Starsky whispered hoarsely, all the color draining from his face.
***************
Brassard looked at his handy work and smiled. Not as subtle as he would have liked but it would certainly convey the message to David that he was near and ready for another tête-à-tête. His only regret was that he had not had time to enjoy the deaths. By necessity, the women had been dispatched quickly, their passing providing him no more than the briefest of pleasures and certainly were of no direct use to his ultimate goal.
Putting the finishing touches on his ‘calling cards’, Brassard methodically walked around the room, ensuring that there would be nothing left for the police except what he wanted them to find.
He glanced again at the women who hung nearby, almost regretting not having afforded their deaths more meaning by allowing them direct participation in his life’s work. He believed that death was not something that should be wasted, as it all too frequently was by people. He had come to understand that society placed little value on death. Most either squandering it stupidly in petty vendettas, letting death spill out without notice or thought, or, conversely, they ran from it as if death were some unnatural entity that one must hide from, lest it find you.
Brassard had learned early on that there was no need to fear Death. His father had taught him that. He had told the young Alfred that Death was merely very good at keeping secrets, but, if one was clever, those secrets could be discovered and exploited. Never waste a death. Use each one to decode a little more of the secret. Alfred had been an apt pupil, ultimately better at his life’s work than his father had been. And yet the secret still remained tantalizingly out of reach.
But not for long, he thought. The game had begun. He knew that once the bodies were discovered David’s fear would begin. He realized now what he had not before, that mere physical pain would not be enough to unlock the secrets. He would slowly have to bring David to a level of psychological fear that would only heighten the physical pain. The pain would then be truly pure, encompassing all aspects of David. Then Brassard was sure that he would be able to obtain what he truly sought.
***************
“No, it can’t be. If it was Brassard he would have come after me, not the girls.” Starsky looked from Dobey to Hutch. “Why? Hutch?”
“I don’t know Starsk. Maybe it’s a coincidence…”
“No,” Starsky whispered. “It’s no coincidence. He’s back. Oh god…” Starsky suddenly felt light headed and sick. He had to get out. Had to move. He bolted from the office before either Dobey or Hutchinson realized what was happening.
Starsky ran. He didn’t notice the looks of his fellow officers as he made his way to the garage. He didn’t notice Hutch until his partner lightly took hold of his shoulders and held him as Starsky leaned one hand on his car and lost the battle with his stomach. And he was barely aware of his partner gently guiding him to the passenger side of the Torino or driving him silently back to his apartment.
Once inside Starsky’s apartment, Hutch helped his friend to the couch and then went to the kitchen to make some tea. Starsky had still not said anything since leaving Dobey’s office and Hutch realized that his partner would not willing start to talk about his fear of Brassard. The blond knew that his friend had locked away many of the memories of what had happened to him while he was held captive. Hutch had never pushed Starsky to talk about it and now he was regretting that decision. Whether he was ready to or not, Starsky not only had to deal with the reality of Brassard’s return but also with the fears that had laid buried over the past several months.
Hutch carried the tea into the living room and handed a mug to Starsky, who took it woodenly and stared at it a long time before taking a sip.
Taking a seat across from Starsky, he eyed he the dark-haired man for awhile. “Starsk,” he finally started, “we need to talk about this.”
Starsky looked up at his partner. “I can’t.”
“You can. Listen, I’m sorry that I didn’t try harder to get you to talk about this before. It would be a lot easier now if I had. But if we are going to get through this you need to tell me what happened to you in the woods. We need to be able to figure out why he’s back and we can’t if you…”
Starsky exploded. “What’s all of this we stuff?” he suddenly yelled. “We? You weren’t the one he took and you aren’t the one he’s after now. So I don’t get all of this ‘we’ have to do this and that! I don’t want to talk about it. O.K.? Just leave me alone!”
“Hey…”
“No, Hutch! Talkin’ about it isn’t going to make things any better and it isn’t going to bring the girls back or stop him from coming.” Starsky began to shake as he continued, his voice becoming huskier with the grief he was feeling. “It’s all my fault. They’re dead because of me. I’m so sorry, so sorry…” his voice broke off in a sob.
Hutch quickly moved to sit next to his partner, putting an arm around his shoulder. He repeated over and over to the distraught man that none of what had happened was his fault. For a long time the two men just sat there, Hutch doing his best to ease his friend’s feeling of anguish over the death of the women.
Eventually Starsky calmed a bit and Hutch gently began again. “Starsk, none of this is your fault. Brassard is a twisted, sick bastard and you can’t blame yourself for what he does. I don’t know why he’s fixated on you. Wish I did, it would make it a hell of a lot easier to stop him. But I do know that you need to talk about what happened to you so that I can help keep you safe. Maybe there’s a clue there that will give us some idea of his motives. We’re in this together buddy.”
Starsky looked at his partner, knowing that he was right but at the same time wishing that he could somehow forget it all. By talking about what happened he knew that he would have to relive it all over again and he wasn’t sure that he could handle it. Then he thought of the women again. He sighed and slowly began.
“I was working on a crossword puzzle when I heard a sound from the cell room. I went in to check on Brassard but his cell was empty. I was checking it out when I got this feeling that something…someone was behind me. I started to turn around and then I heard his voice. I don’t know, Hutch. It was like…” Starsky stared at his partner, unable to put into words what he had felt when he heard Brassard’s voice. After a moment he continued.
“It was like his voice was real thing. Like it could actually touch me,” then, more softly, “did touch me. I’ve never felt anything like it Hutch. I froze.” He stared plaintively at his partner. “I don’t remember anything after that until I woke up and found myself strung up by my wrists.”
Starsky paused and stared into his mug as if the answers to all of his questions could be found there. He shuddered involuntarily as his mind returned to what had happened to him. He finally forced himself to continue, not raising his eyes from his mug.
“When I woke up there was a hood over my head and I didn’t know where I was. Then I felt something jab me and everything shut down. I couldn’t move and then I couldn’t breathe.” Starsky’s breaths came is short gasps as he relived what he was saying. “I thought that I was gonna die right then. I…I…” Starsky stopped as he found he could no longer draw enough air into his lungs to continue.
Hutch quickly reached over and turned his partner’s head so that Starsky was looking at him. “Hey, buddy, it’s O.K. You’re here now. It’s over. Come on. Slow down and take deep breathes. That’s it. Easy.” After awhile, Hutch asked, “Can you go on?”
Starsky nodded. “I was scared, Hutch. Really scared. He, he did things. I tried not to cry out but it hurt so much. I just wanted it to be over.”
“I know that I passed out a few times. It got to the point where I just wanted it to end, even if that meant that I died.” Hutch tried to hide his dismay at Starsky’s last statement. What had Brassard done to make his partner want to give up all hope?
“But he wouldn’t let me go. He kept talking about the pain. About…about how I needed to learn to appreciate it. God, I was so tired and it hurt so much. But he just kept at it, at me. He said that if I didn’t stay with him that he would, he would go after you.” Starsky was trembling again but he forced the words out, unable now to stop. “I couldn’t let him do that, I had to keep going. I really don’t remember much else, other than the pain. It seemed to go on forever. I couldn’t understand why he was doing it. Finally he let me go. I’m sorry Hutch. I tried to hang on. I did. But it was too much.”
The control that Starsky had been trying so hard to maintain cracked and he felt his body wracked with sobs. All of the pain, fear and humiliation he had tried to bury since his last encounter with Brassard poured out. He felt Hutch pulling him close, holding him through the worst of it. Normally he would have pulled away, tried to maintain the tough guy façade he usually wore, but all his defenses were gone. He let Hutch hold him, drawing what comfort he could from him.
The two men sat that way for a long time, Hutch needing to comfort as much as Starsky needed comforting. The blond silently cursed Brassard for what he had done to his friend and wondered again why Starsky seemed to be the focus of such a madman. As he held his partner he tried to think over the things that Starsky had revealed. The only thing that even hinted at some deeper significance was the idea that pain was something to be appreciated. What had that meant? He wanted to question his partner more but he knew that Starsky had had enough for now. Hutch had no doubt that Starsky probably remembered more than he was telling but even the little bit that he had revealed had cost him dearly and now he needed to rest, regroup.
As Hutch continued to hold Starsky, he gradually felt the other man’s breathing even out. He looked down at the bowed head and realized that Starsky had started to fall asleep.
“Hey pal, let’s get you to bed. O.K.?”
Starsky merely nodded and allowed Hutch to help him to the bedroom. Once Starsky was settled Hutch called Dobey, letting him know that they wouldn’t be back that day. He also asked Dobey if he would have all of the files on Brassard pulled and sent over. Dobey grumbled but told Hutch that he would have a uniformed officer drop of the requested files.
True to his word, Dobey saw to it that the files arrived at Starsky’s apartment. Hutch checked on Starsky again and then sat down to mull over the information on Alfred A. Brassard.
Several of the files contained information on the murders that were either attributed to Brassard or that he was the prime suspect in. As Hutch looked at the photos of the victims his revulsion grew. Most showed people who had been brutalized before finally being killed. For whatever reason, Brassard appeared to want his victims to suffer as much as possible before they actually died.
Hutch continued to read through the files, finding nothing remarkable other than the sheer cruelty and apparent senselessness of the crimes themselves. The last file that he came to contained information of a more personal nature regarding Brassard. As Hutch began to read it, he was interrupted when he heard a noise from the bedroom.
He glanced up and saw Starsky standing in the doorway, hair even more tousled than usual. “Hey buddy, welcome back. Hungry?”
Starsky, still bleary eyed, nodded and then dropped heavily onto the sofa.
“Well let me go take a look at what you’ve got in that fridge of yours that doesn’t have hair on it.” Hutch quickly left before Starsky had a chance to reply.
Starsky glanced over at the pile of files that were on the coffee table. He picked one up and absently began leafing through it. His hands began to shake as he looked at picture after picture of Brassard’s victims. They shook not only out of disgust but also out of anger. Anger that any person could inflict so much pain upon another human being and anger that he had not been able to stop this monster from doing it again.
“You son of a bitch,” he whispered as he looked at one particularly grisly picture of a young woman who had obviously been tortured.
Starsky’s voice rose. “You damned stupid, sadistic bastard.” Starsky stood up and kicked the coffee table over, sending the files flying.
Hutch ran into the living room in time to see his partner bend over and begin to fling the piles about the room.
“Starsky!”
The dark-haired man turned wild eyes on his partner. “Damn it, Hutch, why? You saw the pictures. How can a monster like that exist? What the hell does he want?”
“I don’t know but we sure as hell aren’t going to figure it out this way!” Hutch swept his hand to encompass the now scattered files and overturned coffee table.
Starsky drew a deep breath and ran a tired hand over his face. He glanced around the room and then gave his partner a sideways look and, amazingly, a lopsided grin. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
Hutch nodded. “Good. Now that we’ve established that proper investigative techniques does not involve a game of fifty-two pick-up, let’s eat. We can clean this up afterwards.”
The two men ate in silence, each lost in his own thoughts. Hutch glanced at Starsky from time to time, trying to gage how his partner was holding up. He had known that his friend had been traumatized by Brassard but he was only just beginning to realize how deeply troubled
Starsky really was. Hutch knew of the physical damage, they had dealt with that, but what of the psychological damage that Brassard had inflicted? Since until now Starsky had not talked about it, Hutch was in the dark about everything that had happened to his partner.
Starsky caught Hutch staring at him. He sighed and put down his fork. “You got something to say or are you just going to sit there and stare at me? You know, I’m doing O.K. if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Sorry Starsk, I was just thinking about things.”
“Yeah, me too. Sorry I snapped.”
Hutch waved off the apology. “So, do you feel up to going through the file on Brassard? Maybe going over his history will give us some clues.” Hutch watched closely as a series of emotions quickly crossed his partner’s face, finally settling into a look of determination.
Starsky nodded. “Whatever it takes to stop him, we gotta do.”
The two men cleared their dishes and then headed back to the living room. Once the scattered files were cleaned up, they sat on the sofa and began going over the fragmented history of Alfred Brassard.
The file listed him as being the only child of Herbert and Yolanda Brassard. He had grown up in the small town of Meritsville, in a very rural area of Minnesota. Apparently the family had kept pretty much to themselves, in fact in interviews with neighbors it was said that no-one was even aware that Yolanda had been pregnant and given birth until a year after the fact. According to neighbor interviews, the Brassards grew most of their own food and rarely came into town. And even then, Herbert usually went alone, leaving Yolanda home. Once Alfred was old enough, he would accompany his father on the rare trip to pick up something that they could not grow or make on their own.
Both Herbert and Yolanda had lived in Meritsville all of their lives but neither was particularly well liked. They were considered odd and the people living in the area were just as happy that they had kept away. There were rumors that Herbert ‘did things’ to Yolanda but nowhere in the file did it state what these ‘things’ were.
Alfred never attended school formally. The school board at one time had tried to get the Brassards to send Alfred but, for reasons unknown, the matter was dropped and Alfred was schooled at home. Because of this and the family’s dedication to isolationism, the file contained little information regarding Alfred prior to the age of ten.
Around the time that Alfred was ten, the people about town began to notice some strange things. Alfred started to go to town alone. When asked where his parents were, the boy would merely state that they didn’t want to be bothered with folks and so had sent him instead. While people found this peculiar no one investigated further since most were happy not to have to deal with Herbert (although most also did not like dealing with young Alfred either). Additionally, people who drove by the Brassard place regularly also noticed the gradual disappearance of the livestock, which seemed very odd since the family was self-sufficient and needed the eggs, meat and such provided by the animals. Still, no one looked any deeper.
It was the following spring, a year since Herbert and Yolanda had last been seen, when the local sheriff finally decided that he needed to check out the situation. When he did not return home that evening the State Police were notified. What they found when they arrived at the Brassard homestead was Alfred, now eleven, sitting quietly at the table eating a sandwich. The sheriff was tied to a chair, very dead. The blood on the walls and on Alfred, as well as the condition of the body bore mute testimony to what had occurred. Upon further inspection the now decayed bodies of, it was assumed, Herbert and Yolanda were found in the back bedroom.
The stench and gore were so overpowering that two of the officers became violently ill. The report stated that eleven-year-old Alfred just sat there and continued to eat.
Alfred was of course taken into custody and a battery of psychological tests preformed. It was decided that nothing short severe and prolonged physical and psychological abuse could have caused this type of behaviour in such a young boy. Alfred had snapped. The medical reports also stated that the head psychiatrist in charge of the case felt that, with the proper therapy and environment, Alfred could be ‘cured’. He was young yet and his mind malleable. There was no trial. Alfred was shipped off to the psychiatric ward where he could be cared for.
Ten years later, he was free, his medical report stating that he had been miraculously restored to good mental health.
Starsky and Hutch scanned the rest of the file. There was not much more there that had not been covered in the individual case files.
“It looks as if that ‘miraculous cure’ was very short lived. The first murder that they attributed to Brassard happened within a year of his release.” Hutch shook his head in frustration. “What the hell were they thinking? You don’t cure an animal like that. For God’s sake, he killed three people by the time he was eleven!”
Starsky nodded in agreement. He was still trying to understand how the oh so wise psychiatrists couldn’t see just how sick Brassard was. Finally he asked quietly, “So what do we do? There doesn’t seem to be any pattern to who he picks or when and where he strikes. They all appear to be random. So how do we catch him?”
Hutch thought about that for a minute. He had an answer but he knew that Starsky would not like it any more than he did.
As if reading his thoughts, Starsky said, “Bait,” in a voice almost too soft for Hutch to hear.
“I was thinking that but it’s just too dangerous. Starsk, he wouldn’t hesitate to kill you. We can’t, I can’t risk that. There has to be another way!”
“Hey, he’s gonna come after me anyway. At least we can be ready for him. Besides, we gotta stop him. If we don’t, he’ll just go on killing people.”
“Starsk…”
“Hutch, one way or another we have to end this. I can’t spend the rest of my life knowing that I could have stopped him and didn’t. And I can’t go on lookin’ over my shoulder wondering when he’ll be back.”
“Yeah, I know. Listen, we can talk to Dobey tomorrow and see if he has any ideas. Maybe after a night’s sleep we’ll come up with something.”
Hutch rose and walked over to the closet where Starsky kept extra linen.
“Hey, what are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing? You don’t think that I’m going to sleep on the sofa without a blanket and pillow, do you?”
“Hutch, I don’t need a sitter.”
“Maybe not, but I need to be here.”
Starsky silently thanked the powers that be for sending Hutch to him. “O.K., I guess.”
As the blond got the sofa ready, Starsky went and double-checked the locks. As he headed into the bedroom, he paused and turned back to his partner.
“Thanks.”
Brassard looked around at his latest accommodations. Yes, he thought, this would do very nicely. Nicely indeed. The abattoir had been closed for years and not even the derelicts that lived on the streets bothered with it. The stench of long dead animals still clung to the air. If he listened carefully Brassard could almost here the screams of terrified animals being led to their deaths. He could not have asked for a more ideal location. A few modifications and it would be ready for when David arrived.
Brassard could not remember a time when he had so keenly anticipated the arrival of any of his guests. All must be perfect. He had been carefully preparing not only this location but also the tactics needed to prepare David and then guide him here. Oh, the dead girls were a fine start. He was sure that the detective was aware of his presence. But it was not enough. This one was resilient. It would take more than the deaths of two women to drive him to the state that would best suit Alfred’s needs.
The challenge that this one posed exhilarated him. He was confident that soon he would be able to reach his goal. But he must not rush. His father had taught him that. Patience was important if one was to succeed. Certainly his father had displayed patience. But Brassard learned early on that his father lacked the true passion needed to see the task to completion. He, Alfred, did not have that character flaw. He would succeed where his father, a weak man, had failed.
Whistling a tune to himself as he checked his equipment, he thought about the next step in his plan. He would have to be careful, he did not want David too arrive to early. That would not do at all. If that happened Brassard was sure that he would be unable to push David to the level of ‘awareness’ needed for success. That was obvious from his last encounter with the detective. And he did not intend to fail again.
**********
“That went well,” Starsky said sarcastically as he threw himself onto his chair, banging his knee on the desk in the process.
“You can’t really be surprised, Gordo. You didn’t really think that Dobey would go along with the idea, did you?”
“Nobody has any better ideas!”
“Listen, we haven’t really had any time to think this through. We just found out that Brassard was back yesterday. And Dobey was right, we should be getting out there and trying to get some leads first.”
Starsky shook his head. “Yeah, like more bodies!”
“Starsk?” Starsky did not look up at his partner. “Starsky, hey, look at me.”
Starsky reluctantly turned his eyes on his partner.
“We talked about this, remember? Whatever Brassard’s plans are, you are not to blame. And if you don’t get that through that thick skull of yours you are not going to be much good out there. So come on, let’s go see if Huggy has heard anything. O.K.?”
The dark-haired man nodded. He knew that Hutch was right but somehow that didn’t take away the little voice in his head that kept him reminding him that those two girls might still be alive if… He shook himself. He knew that going down that road was too dangerous.
Out loud he said, “Well then, what are ya just sitting there for? Let’s go!”
The detectives arrived at Huggy’s to find the proprietor behind the bar cleaning glasses.
“Hey Huggy,” Hutch said as he sat down on one of the stools.
Huggy looked at the two men whom he had come to think of as friends. “Why do I get the feeling that this isn’t a social call?”
Hutch chuckled quietly. “That transparent?”
“Well, from the look on your partner’s face, I’d say this had to do with the deaths of those women yesterday.”
“Yeah, Huggy,” Starsky said, “do you have anything for us?”
Huggy shook his head. “Not much. Only that those two women may not have been all that they appeared. Word has it that they generally paid the rent through a variety of methods, including some, um, nocturnal activities, if you know what I mean.”
“Hookers?” Starsky said quietly.
“Sorry man but yeah.”
Both men were stunned. Starsky recovered first. “But why were they with us?”
“I’m not really sure but I know someone who might be able to help. You remember Willie Johnson?”
“Sure,” Hutch said. “Sleazy little guy who dabbled in anything that he could get paid for. We busted him a couple of times.”
“That’s him. Well, I’ve heard rumors that someone hired him to find a couple of girls. Maybe he might be the one you want to talk to.”
“Thanks Huggy.” Starsky was up and headed out the door, Hutch following behind.
“Hey, Hutch,” Huggy called. “Is he O.K.?”
Hutch merely shrugged and then turned to catch up with Starsky.
Two hours later they were no closer to finding Willie Johnson then when they had started. Nobody had seen him for at least a couple of weeks.
“Hutch,” Starsky said as he took a bite of his hamburger. “I’ve been thinking.”
“Does it hurt much?”
“Ha, ha! No, I mean what if Brassard did hire Willie to find the girls. Knowing what we do about him, do you really think that he’d just let Willie go afterwards? I mean, he wouldn’t want any kind of loose ends.”
“That thought had crossed my mind as well.” Hutch started to toss his napkin on the floor of Starsky’s car but stopped when he saw the horrified look on his friend’s face. “Sorry. O.K., let’s assume that Brassard did hire Willie to find the girls. Why? I mean, what did he hope to gain?”
Starsky had stopped eating and sat with his hands in his lap. “He wants me.”
“It’s more than that. If all he wanted was you, why not just go after you? Why the girls.”
Starsky sighed. “Why does he do anything that he does? Who knows?”
Hutch shook his head. “No, we’re missing something. There is more going on here than a simple vendetta.”
They sat quietly for a moment. Then, hesitantly, Starsky said, “I…I remember…”
“What?” Hutch asked gently.
“When he had me. I remember, towards the end, that he said he had chosen me. There was more but I can’t remember. It hurt so much.” Starsky paused and then looked up at his partner. “He’s evil, Hutch.”
“Yeah, he’s probably the worse psychopath we’ve ever run into.”
“No, don’t you see? He’s really evil.” Starsky struggled to find the words that would express what he needed to make Hutch understand. “I remember when I was little, my grandmother used to talk about demons that would roam the Russian countryside looking for souls to possess. Use to scare me to death.”
“Your grandmother told you this?”
Starsky chuckled. “I guess she liked to make sure that I was careful not to stray too far from the good path.”
He grew serious again. “When I first saw him, you know, in the cell, that was all I could think of. It scared me so much that I couldn’t move. Then, while he had me, I thought that he didn’t want to merely kill me but he wanted my soul.”
“Starsk, those were just stories.”
“Maybe so, but evil is real, Hutch.”
Hutch didn’t know what to say. He was not religious and did not believe in the kind of good and evil that his partner did. But he also knew that, if he pushed the issue, he would discourage Starsky from opening up. Starsky was proud and if he thought that Hutch considered his opinions foolish he would not feel comfortable sharing them.
Hutch decided to steer the questioning away from the topic for now. “Do you remember anything else?”
Starsky knew what Hutch was doing but let it go. Hutch was wrong about this but he knew that there was no way to convince him. So, he simply shook his head.
“Well,” Hutch said, “we’re not getting anywhere here. Let’s head over to the precinct and see if we can find anything out about Willie there.”
***************
Brassard looked around the apartment. So many things to choose from. He picked up a photo showing two men standing on the beach with two women. He looked at it for a moment then put it back. No, that wouldn’t do. He continued his tour of each room, picking things up and then carefully returning them. He needed to find just the right item.
So far things had been going well. He wished he had been there to see David when he found out about the girls, for surely he had heard. After all, the blond one had spent the night with him. Why else would he do that unless he needed to comfort his distraught partner. Brassard chuckled to himself. Oh yes David, the fun is just beginning.
He glanced through the items in the medicine cabinet. The usual things, none of which would have just the right impact. He kept searching.
He wandered back out into the main room. His gaze fell upon the chess set which was set up. He smiled as he walked over to it and picked up the white knight. Oh yes, this would be perfect. With just a little work it would do quite well.
***************
“What are you two doing here?” Dobey asked when he saw Starsky and Hutch at their desks. “Did you find out anything?”
“We got a lead on the girls. We think that Willie Johnson may have put them in contact with Brassard but we’ve come up against a brick wall trying to locate him. Seems that old Willie has dropped out of sight.”
Dobey frowned. “You can find him in the morgue.”
“Damn!” Starsky sighed. “How long ago did it happen?”
“Fernandez and Harrell found him dead next to a dumpster a couple of weeks ago. They were using him as a snitch and when he didn’t show up for a scheduled meeting they went out looking for him. They can fill you in on the details. I saw them here not long ago.”
“Yeah, thanks Cap.” Starsky smiled grimly. “Brassard’s thorough if nothing else.”
They caught up with the uniformed officers in the locker room.
“We heard you two found Willie Johnson dead a couple of weeks ago,” Hutch started.
Fernandez nodded. “Yeah, neck snapped like a twig. The guy probably didn’t know what hit him. You been looking for him?”
Hutch nodded. “We got a lead that he may be involved in the Grim Reaper case. Wanted to ask him a few questions.”
“Well I don’t think he’s gonna be much good to you now.”
“Keep thinking like that and you’ll make detective someday,” Starsky replied sarcastically.
“What’s your beef? We didn’t off the guy.” Harrell replied.
Hutch shot Starsky a look. “Never mind my partner, he’s a bit on edge today. The last time you spoke with Willie, did he say anything about looking for a couple of girls for someone?”
Fernandez shook his head. “No, he was feeding us some info on some guy involved in kiddie porn.”
“You know,” Harrell added, “he did seem a bit antsier than usual the last time we saw him. Remember.”
“Yeah, he kept saying stuff about having to do a job for some guy who was gonna pay big but he didn’t want the guy to think that he was talking to us about whatever that action was. He seemed kind of afraid of whoever it was. He just gave us the info we asked for and left. You know how he usually was, always tryin’ to get us to give him more money or listen to another lead that he’s sure we’ll want to pay for.”
“He didn’t mention anything about the guy?” Hutch asked.
“No. Like I said, he just gave us what we asked for and got outta there as fast as he could.”
“Alright, hey, thanks.” The detectives turned and left.
“We’re getting nowhere, Hutch. How in the hell are we gonna find him? He has a nasty habit of killing everyone he comes into contact with.”
“Not everyone,” Hutch replied softly.
“Not for lack of tryin’!” Starsky instantly regretted the words, knowing their effect on his partner. “I’m being a jerk. Sorry.”
“Forget it. Let’s grab a cup of coffee and try to figure out where to go from here.”
As the two officers reentered the squad room Starsky spied a package on his desk. He sat down in his chair and looked at the plainly wrapped box. There was no return address, just his name and office address. For a moment he just sat there staring at it. There was nothing spectacular about the package and yet for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to open it.
“What you got there Starsk?”
“I don’t know. It was just sitting here.”
Hutch picked up on his partner’s mood. “Whose it from?”
Starsky shook his head. “Dunno. There’s no return address.”
“There’s only one way to find out. You want me to open it?”
“No.” Starsky slowly pulled the brown paper off and held the small cardboard box in his hand for a moment. Then, even more slowly, he opened the lid and pulled out the item that the box held.
It was a knight from a chess set. A set that he knew well. One that he and Hutch had used often. Except now it had been altered. The knight’s head had been neatly cut off. Along with the knight there was a small card. In neat block letters it said, ‘Not all white knights can vanquish their lord’s demons.’