Cindy's Party

The steps of the Bay City courthouse were a scene of pandemonium. A pack of reporters had mobbed District Attorney Gravenhurst and Captain Torelli, the spokesmen for the police department, the minute they'd emerged from the building, shoving microphones forward and shouting out questions. Still more were crowding around the lawyer for the defendant, demanding a response to the just-delivered guilty verdict. The hordes who had been unable to squeeze into the courtroom and had waited outside in anticipation of the verdict jostled and pushed back and forth, trying to get close enough to hear the details from the besieged men.

In all the confusion, it was relatively easy for two plain clothes detectives in suits and one female uniformed officer to slip unnoticed down the side stairs and out to the back parking lot. Nevertheless, when they finally reached the Torino, Starsky gave a huge sigh of relief. "Boy, talk about barracudas," he said with a grin. "Glad it's Torelli and Gravenhurst up there, instead of us."

"Amen to that," Hutch said. "Bad enough being on the stand for two days. I'm not sure I could face being grilled by C. J. Phelps again." He turned to the female officer. "But it's a shame you didn't get some attention, Cindy. If anybody deserves it in this case, it's you."

She smiled shyly. "Thanks, Hutch, but I just did my job."

"No, he's right," Starsky broke in. "You're the one that went through all those files, matched up all the names and stories. If me and Hutch had to do all that, Chisholm would have died of old age before he ever went to trial. You're the hero in this one."

"I only wish I'd been able to make the bust," she said, patting the handcuffs hanging from her belt. "If I ever want to get out of uniform, I've got to get some good stuff on my record."

"Honestly, I wouldn't have wished that bust on my worst enemy," Hutch said. "It was a miracle nobody got killed. Even with all the info you dug up for us."

"Tell you what, beautiful," Starsky said. "We'll make sure your sergeant gets the word how much help you were." He winked. "Tell him he's got a real hidden treasure."

"And we'll put in a good word with Captain Dobey, the next time you're up for promotion. He always likes to get his hands on the best." Hutch took her hand and kissed it lightly. "You've got our thanks for a job very well done."

Starsky, not to be outdone, leaned over and kissed her soundly on the cheek.

Laughing and blushing, Cindy smiled and shook her head. "Minnie was right. You two are a pair of trashy boys." She glanced at her watch. "Uh-oh. If I'm not back at the station in ten minutes, nothing you guys say will get me out of trouble." She ran over to her car, and with a last wave, headed out of the parking lot.

The two detectives watched her drive off, and then Starsky said, "You know, we really oughta do something nice for her."

"I'm not sure there's anything we *can* do, except what we said already. We don't have any pull with the brass to get her promoted or anything."

Starsky shook his head. "No, I was thinking, maybe a little party, or something? Just a few people, have some drinks, some food, you know? She's earned it."

Hutch thought for a few seconds, then nodded approvingly. He reached out and lightly tapped Starsky's head. "Not all cotton wool in there after all."

*******

Two days later, Hutch entered his apartment and stopped dead in the process of taking off his jacket. "Starsky?" he said in a deceptively calm voice. "Why is my kitchen full of balloons?"

Starsky, just behind him, ducked his head so he could look under his partner's outstretched arm. "Oh, great! They're here!"

"And *why* are they in my kitchen?" Hutch repeated.

Starsky sent him a weak smile. "Because they wouldn't all fit in the bathroom?"

Hutch moved toward the refrigerator, batting the odd balloon out of his way. "Tell me something. How did 'a little party' turn into my kitchen full of balloons, a truckload of food and beer from Huggy's, and three-quarters of the precinct invited to jam into *my* living room?"

"Hutch, Hutch. Calm down." Starsky gripped his shoulder. "It's a cocktail party, right? So half the people will be fashionably late, and by the time they show up, the rest will have had a couple of drinks, and be ready to leave. We're getting a real good deal from Huggy on the food, and-" he broke off.

"And the balloons?"

"Well, we gotta decorate with *something*, right?"

"Not necessarily," Hutch was fishing for a beer and shoving balloons out of his way with increasing violence. "We could just have-" He stopped dead. "What in the hell is that?" He was staring in disbelief at the kitchen table.

"That" was huge white-frosted sheet cake that covered nearly the whole table. It was liberally festooned with bunches of pink, blue, and yellow icing roses, green gumdrop leaves, and swags of pink and blue icing ribbons. What had caught Hutch's horrified gaze were the dozens of miniature guns and handcuffs sprinkled in among the flowers, all looped together with more pink icing ribbons.

"It's here!" Starsky said happily. "I was worried they couldn't make one this big in time. Nice job on the decorations, huh?"

"Nice? Starsky, the cake is covered in handcuffs and guns!"

"Well, come on. You know how Cindy is about her handcuffs. I mean, she probably sleeps with them. I thought it would be cute."

"Cute." Hutch repeated. He sank onto one of the kitchen chairs as if his legs had given way. "Three quarters of the precinct. In my kitchen. Eating a BDSM-themed cake, and wondering who uses the cuffs on who. I might as well just request a transfer to Outer Mongolia right now, while there's still some place that'll take me."

Starsky shook his head. "Come on, blintz. You're exaggerating. It'll be a nice party, a nice cake, everybody'll have a good time. Just relax."

****

"Good party, Hutchinson." Captain Dobey helped himself to another stuffed mushroom as he passed the coffee table and joined Hutch by the piano. "Nice idea to do something for Cindy. She really put a lot of work into this case."

Hutch smiled and nodded. "I had my doubts about the party, Captain, but it really is turning out fine." Just as Starsky had predicted, people were leaving and arriving at almost the same rate, and while the apartment was crowded, it wasn't jammed tight. Everyone seemed to be enjoying the snacks Huggy had provided, the beer was flowing freely, and, miraculously, there had not as yet been a crash from the greenhouse signaling the demise of a favorite plant. The guest of honor was seated by the front window, blushing, smiling, and accepting congratulations.

"I've only got one question," Dobey said, taking another bite of his mushroom.

"What's that?" Hutch had a feeling he knew what was coming.

"Why is Starsky handcuffed to the refrigerator?"

Well, no, that wasn't what he'd expected.

"What?" Hutch pushed back the piano bench and headed for the kitchen, stepping over feet, and fending off a few suggestive arm grabs from some fairly intoxicated ladies.

He stopped at the kitchen table, and leaned casually against it, one hand on the back of a chair, the other pressed to his stomach to hold in his laughter.

"Starsky, what the hell are you doing?"

"Why does everybody keep asking me that?" Starsky said. "Hand me a beer, will you? I can't reach the tub." He stretched an arm out. "And some of that cake, make sure you get a lot of frosting, and can you push those nuts a little closer?"

"You don't need any more *nuts*." Hutch cut a nice slice of cake, and set it on a plate just out of Starsky's reach.

"Hey, come on, Hutch, don't be mean."

"Tell me what the hell you're doing, or I'll eat this cake right in front of you. Every moist chocolatey morsel, right in front of you, Starsky, and you'll have to watch as it disappears, piece by piece, into my mouth, and not into yours—"

"All right! You have a mean streak, Hutch, did anyone ever tell you that?" Starsky licked his lips, a little feverishly. He lowered his voice, so that Hutch had to lean in closer to hear him. "It's Cindy. I think she's gone a little crazy. No—don't look, for crying out loud!"

Hutch turned his head back to Starsky, one eyebrow much higher than the other. "What are you trying to say?"

"She said she made me something special and got me in here to show me. So I open the fridge like she says, and next thing I know, she's got me cuffed to the door handle. And then she says, 'I'll take care of you later,' and walks away." He took advantage of Hutch's astonished distraction to snag a chunk of the cake off the plate. "She's pretty good with the cuffs, I'll give her that."

"I taught her everything she knows," Hutch said.

"Yeah, right. I taught *you* everything *you* know, so don't look so self-satisfied."

"Oh, I think there are one or two things I've learned that maybe you don't know about." He grinned. "Might have taught Cindy a few of them, while I was at it."

"Like what?"

"Starsky, a gentleman never gives away a lady's secrets. You know that."

"Especially if he doesn't know any of them to tell."

Hutch stepped back fast as Starsky made a play for his shirt front.

"What are doing, Starsky? You think if you get hold of me I'll unlock you?"

"What made you think I want you to unlock me, huh?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe the desperation in your eyes gave me a clue?"

Starsky threw him a disgusted look. "Gee, think you might be a detective when you grow up?" He tugged at the cuff. "Come on, Hutch, this is serious." Lowering his voice, he leaned a little closer. "You know what people say about her."

"Rumors." Hutch waved his hand dismissively. "If people paid more attention to doing their jobs, and less to gossiping like a bunch of old hens whenever somebody isn't toeing the middle-class, middle-brow, middle-of-the-road party line, we'd all be a lot better off."

"So it doesn't bother you when people gossip about us?"

"Us? What could anybody possibly say about us?"

Starsky looked down and scuffed one sneaker toe back and forth across the linoleum. "You know—"

"No, I don't know. Starsky—"

"Like when they say I'm doing you in the back of the Torino on stakeouts down at the docks?"

"*You* doing *me*?" Hutch pointedly moved the plate of cake a few more inches out of Starsky's reach. Starsky's yelp and grab came just a fraction of a second too late.

Hutch grinned broadly. "Did I ever tell you the story of Tantalus, Starsky?"

"Tantalus? Wasn't he that mechanic from New Orleans we busted last year for the triple homicide?"

Hutch shook his head. "Tantalus was a figure in Greek mythology. He sinned against the gods. His punishment was to spend eternity standing in a pool of water, but every time he tried to drink, the water went away. He was surrounded by tables full of the finest food and wine, but whenever he reached for anything, it disappeared. Kind of like . . . oh, let's see . . . *you,* Starsk. Nice cold beer right over there, wonderful cake—" He broke off to take a forkful of cake and slowly, teasingly, put it in his mouth. He closed his eyes with a blissful sigh and licked his lips.

"All right, all right!" Starsky sounded desperate. "You doing me, okay? You happy now? Just get me—"

"You and Hutch doing what?" Cindy said from behind them.

"Uh," Starsky said.

"Um," Hutch said.

"You guys are amazing conversationalists. So articulate. Fascinating."

"Yeah, well—" Starsky said.

"And not only that—" Hutch said.

Cindy rolled her eyes.

"Hey Cindy," Starsky said. "Push the table over this way, will you?"

"Hey Cindy," Hutch said, and draped a long arm across her shoulders. He turned away, and pulled her around with him. "Let me freshen up that drink for you." He guided her off toward the drinks table in the greenhouse, head close to hers. She laughed at something he said, but Starsky couldn't hear what it was.

"Hey Cindy!" Starsky said. "Hutch! Come on, man. Hutch!"

Minnie wandered into the kitchen and raised her eyebrows. "New bracelet, Starsky? Trendsetting, are we?" She waggled the chain, but stepped back fast when Starsky made a grab for her hand.

"Minnie. Schweetheart. C'mere and give your pal a little of that cake there. Will you do that for me, Minnie? For your pal?"

"Tell me why you're handcuffed to the refrigerator first."

"Darlin', babe, I swear I don't know. Ask Cindy." He dropped his voice. "She's the crazy one."

"Wrong answer, Detective," Minnie said. She cut a large slice of cake, and began to eat it dramatically. "Wow, great cake. Mmmmmm. Delicious. Really excellent. So rich and sweet. It's melting in my mouth. And the frosting, just perfection." She licked her lips. "Where'd this come from anyway?"

"Like I'm going to tell you now? You're just mean. And to think I always stick up for you down at Metro."

"What are you talking about, Starsky? Stick up for me? What for?"

"Well, I can't tell you that, Minnie, you're my friend. Friends don't hurt each other's feelings. And they aren't mean to each other."

"Gee, let me write that down." She took her cake and walked away.

Starsky leaned an arm against the kitchen counter and snaked a foot out, trying to snag a table leg. He just needed another inch or so, and he'd have it . . .

"Starsky, my man. What it is?"

"Now don't you start in on me, too, Huggy."

"What you talking about, dude?" Huggy put a skinny flank up on the table, and it moved under him, even farther away from Starsky's foot.

"I give up," Starsky said sadly, and sat himself down on the floor, cuffed hand dangling above his head.

"Good food, good drink, don't you say?" Huggy surveyed the offerings he'd sent over. "Cake looks good, too. You better have some before it's gone." He spotted Captain Dobey and wandered over to say hello, leaving a dejected Starsky in a pathetic pile on the floor.

He heard someone laughing and looked up. It was Cindy again, and she and Hutch were both looking his way. He smiled, a kind of crooked sickly smile, and Hutch waved at him. Starsky began to bang the back of his head against the refrigerator door.

A few minutes later, Minnie came back in with her date.

"We're leaving now, Starsky," she said. "Thanks for a great party. Good cake." Her friend reached a hand forward for a shake, and Starsky wiggled the fingers of his right hand that were up above his head, growing numb.

"Oh," said Minnie's date. "Uh, sorry. Good party."

"I won't forget this, Minnie," Starsky said pointedly.

"Bye, Starsky," she said, and they made their way to the door and left.

Soon after that the rest of the guests started leaving, each one coming in to thank Starsky and to congratulate him on the excellent food and drink. Soon he was alone on the floor in the kitchen, no one else in sight at all, no sounds, nothing.

"At what point do I begin to worry?" he said, to no one that he could see.

"Now," said Hutch, and stuck his head up from the other side of the couch.

"Now," said Cindy, and walked around the end of the couch toward Starsky, dangling a key from her fingers.

Starsky stood up fast. "Now that," he said, looking Hutch straight in the eye, "is what I call having my cake . . ." He looked at Cindy and smiled broadly. "And, eating it, too."