EDDIES OF TIME

(c)July 2018 by Charlotte Frost

A sequel to Agitation

Starsky shielded his eyes from the June sun as he stood next to Hutch in the paddock at Hollywood Park.  "I wish we could explain to him that he literally needs to run fast enough to save his balls."

Hutch considered his reply as they watched Mike Hawkins saddle Danny in stall four, with the assistance of a thirty-ish black-skinned groom and the jockey's valet.  "I don't know, Starsk.  If he's not going to be that good, he may as well lose 'em now -- before he ever has a chance to know what they can do for him."  They had agreed to give Hawkins permission to geld Danny -- and race him next time in a claiming race -- if he didn't run well in his debut today.  Hutch nodded at the tote board.  "He's up to thirty to one."  Danny had been twenty to one of the morning line -- one of the longest shots in the full field of twelve.

"I'm going to bet at a few dollars on him.  That would be a heck of a payoff."  Danny stood still, with his head high, looking out at the crowd.  Starsky slapped Hutch on the arm with his program.  "He reminds me of Darla.  Remember, she'd always look around like that."

"Yeah, he does," Hutch said, glad to have something positive to say.  Their friend Mandy, who owned ten percent of Danny, hadn't been able to get off work to see the race, since it was a Thursday.  She'd purchased a pager, so she could get beeped with a number to represent Danny's finishing position after the race.  Nick had come, but hadn't been interested in joining them in the paddock.  He had agreed to be in charge of the video camera.

Hawkins petted Danny's neck, and the groom led him out of the stall to the walking ring.

Hutch watched the other horses.  Many of the young colts were sweating in the summer heat, and some prancing nervously.  Danny was calm.

Hawkins moved next to them.  "He's going to be a good paddock horse, at least."

"He's got a good head on his shoulders," Starsky eagerly agreed..

The jockeys appeared, and their rider, a veteran named Lester Knowles came to stand next to them.   His eyes searched out the dark bay with the gold saddle cloth with a large "4" on it.  "He's nice and calm for a first timer."

"He shouldn't give you any trouble," Hawkins nodded.  "He's always trained good in the gate, too."  His voice became more professional.  "He's probably going to break behind the others.  Let him settle in wherever he feels most comfortable." 

"Sure thing."

The paddock judge called, "Riders up!"

As Danny approached their group, the groom at his bridle, Hawkins said, "If you know you aren't going to finish well, go ahead and let him quit.  Save him for another day."

"Will do."

The groom halted Danny, and Knowles held up his left foot.  Hawkins bent to grab Knowles' ankle and lift him to the saddle.

The row of twelve two-year-old colts headed from the paddock to the track. 

Hawkins turned toward the grandstand, and Starsky and Hutch followed.  "You guys going to watch from my box?"

"Sure," Starsky said.

Nick joined them while holding the video camera.  "Man, he's thirty to one.  I've got to put some money on him, even though he doesn't seem to have a chance.  His workouts are so slow."

"I'm putting a bet down, too," Starsky said.

When they made it up to the level where the boxes were, Nick handed Hutch the video camera.  "Gotta go bet."  Hutch took the camera, and hoped Starsky wasn't going to bet more than a couple of dollars.  When they reached Hawkins' box, Hutch set the camera down, and then lifted the binoculars from around his neck and found Danny.  His bay coat glistened in the sun as he trotted along the backstretch of the track.

The Starsky brothers joined them a moment later.  "Just put two across the board," Starsky assured Hutch.  "Man, thirty to one would be a heck of a payoff for a six dollar investment."

Hutch gave Starsky his binoculars, and said to Mike, "You never did mention how Danny did when you worked him with another horse."

Hawkins looked over at him, his expression droll.  "He didn't want to pass the other horse."

Hutch felt his stomach tighten.

Starsky asked in disbelief, "He didn't?"

"No.  He came right up to the other horse, but didn't want to go by him.  The rider hit him a couple of times with his whip, and he still didn't want to go by."

Nick muttered, "Now he tells us."

"He just wants to run with the herd," Hawkins said.  "That's why he needs to be in with horses who have the same attitude.  Then he'll have a chance."

Starsky said enthusiastically, "Maybe he'll surprise us."

Hutch hadn't been hopeful about Danny's chances, and now was even less so. 

The horses were approaching the starting gate, which was set near the middle of the backstretch.  Starsky elbowed Nick.  "Get the camera."

Nick asked, "Why?  So, we can film him running last the whole way?"

"I don't think he'll be last," Hawkins noted.  "Like I said, he wants to run with the herd.  He doesn't want to get left behind."

Nick picked up the camera.  "I thought he was bred to be a racehorse, and that means he wants to be in front."

"They're all bred to be racehorses," Hawkins said, leaning against the railing.  "It's just that only a certain few have 'it', and a whole bunch don't.  Still," he said in a more cheerful tone, "if they're running against other horses that don't have it, somebody has to win."

The announcer said, "It is now post time."  The horses began to load into the gate.

Starsky told Nick, "Just make sure you keep the camera on him."

"Yeah, yeah."

Starsky nudged Hutch as more horses loaded.  "You're being awfully quiet."

"I'm not expecting much."  Hutch didn't say that he wondered if they should have listened to Hawkins and put Danny against lower quality competition.

Starsky squeezed Hutch's hand and raised the binoculars to his eyes.  "At least, we can't be too disappointed."

The last horse went into the starting gate.  A moment later, they opened, and the announcer declared, "They're off!"

As the line of horses galloped away from the gate, they began to separate, and the number 4 was running in front of two other horses, with increasing distance from the horse in front, as the field spread out.

"Ah, geez," Starsky said as the field reached the end of the backstretch.

"Yeah," Hutch agreed with a sigh.  The field started to bunch up, and he felt hope, as Danny moved into the crowd, passing a couple of horses.

"There he goes!" Starsky said, bouncing on his toes.

Hutch's building enthusiasm was short-lived, as Danny went by another horse while the field turned into a stretch, but he obviously wasn't gaining on the first half of horses. Knowles used his whip a couple of times, but Danny didn't gain any ground, and Knowles sat still.

"Good," Hawkins said, as the field approached the finish line, "Knowles has wrapped up on him."

"What does that mean?" Starsky asked, as Danny had gotten up to sixth, but was a dozen lengths behind the leader.

"He's just sitting on him, not pressing him, and letting him gallop home."

Camera to his eye, Nick demanded, "Why isn't he using his whip to make him run faster?"

The first few horses had gone past the finish line, and Danny came in sixth, with his six remaining foes strung out well behind him.  Hawkins replied shortly, "I told him not to.  It's not Danny's fault that he can't keep up with these horses.  You don't want to call on a horse to give a hundred and ten percent, when they have no chance of earning any purse money, anyway.  An all-out effort takes a lot out of them, and it's that much longer before they're ready to run again."

Nick lowered the camera and muttered, "Well, that was fun."

Hawkins watched as the field slowed, the horses rounding the first turn, jockeys high in their stirrups.  He turned his attention back to the trio.  "That was a good first race.  He was great in the paddock and in the gate.  On the turn, he was willing to go up into the middle of the pack, which a lot of horses don't want to do, and he was okay with getting dirt kicked back in his face."  He shrugged.  "He actually did better than I thought he would, beating half the field.  But he needs to run against lower quality horses."

Hutch sighed again.  "Okay, you've made your point.  A claiming race it is next time."  He saw the look of resignation on Starsky's face.  "And I guess you may as well geld him."

"It definitely won't hurt, and it might help.  I'll have the vet out in the next week or so.  It'll take him a couple of weeks to fully recover from that.  So, I'd look for him to race again in four or five weeks.  I'm headed back to the barn."  He turned away.

"We'll probably join you there," Hutch said, since they'd brought a bag of carrots.  He squeezed Starsky's shoulder.  "Well, at least that's some good news, huh?  Maybe he'll win next time, when he's against easier competition."

"Yeah," Starsky said in a low voice, as they left the box.  "Just remembering how it was, when we were here for Darla's first race.  That was so exciting, even though she finished third.  Remember?"

"Of course," Hutch said with a smile.  "She was in a whole different league."

"Yeah.  I guess Hawkins was right, that she really spoiled us."

Nick had brought his own car, so he left from the track.  Starsky and Hutch drove back to the barn area, and from Hawkins' office, Starsky called Mandy's pager, and keyed in "6", so she would know how Danny finished.  Then he came back out to join Hutch and Hawkins as they watched Danny cool out.  He had a large, lightweight blanket thrown over him, and he was being walked around by his groom, who had a thick afro hairstyle.

Hutch said, "Just wish he would have earned something, since it's going to be another month before he races again.  This is another month with no income."

Hawkins said firmly, "That's why we trainers don't like to waste a race."

Starsky quipped, "Reprimand noted."  His mouth corner twitched into a smile.

More gently, Hawkins said, "Doesn't make much sense to pay me, if you aren't going to listen to what I say."

Stella came out of the tack room and called to Danny's groom, "Thomas, what did you do with the liniment?"

Thomas called back, "It's right where it always is, Miss Stella."  He nodded toward the end of the barn.  "Outside of Ivory's stall."

She headed down the shedrow.  "You're supposed to keep it in the tack room."

"Not if you're still going to need it today."

She waved him off.

Hutch remembered the quiet, older groom who had handled Darla.  "Whatever happened to Blinks?"

"He retired a couple of years ago," Hawkins replied.  "Moved back to Portland, Oregon, to be with his family.  I still miss him sometimes.  He certainly had a way with horses."  He nodded toward the groom who was walking Danny around.  "I don't know if Thomas is going to work out.  I put him with Danny, because Danny is so easy going.  But he's kind of raw.  Still, he's got an outgoing personality that sort of keeps everyone entertained."

Hutch held up the bag of carrots.  "Can Danny have some of these?"

Hawkins nodded and called, "Thomas, bring him over here."

"Come on, Danny boy," Thomas said cheerfully.  He led him up to the group.  "He's cooled out fine, boss."

Hutch tore open the bag of carrots, and Starsky took one. 

While Danny ate the carrot that Starsky held out, Hawkins reached down and ran his hands along Danny's front legs.  As he straightened, he said, "Yeah, he came out of it great."

Hutch patted Danny's neck.  "At least, he doesn't know what's in store for him."

As Starsky fed another carrot, he said, "You mean, losing his balls?"

"Ah, man," Thomas said, patting the other side of Danny's neck, "he's going to get the unkindest cut?"

"Yes," Hawkins replied.  Then, "You can put him up."

Thomas led Danny away.  "Don't worry, you won't feel a thing."

Hawkins rested his hands on his back pockets, turning to face Starsky and Hutch.  "Didn't you tell me that Darla's second foal is a filly by Storm Bird?"

Hutch nodded while Starsky replied, "Yeah.  Why?"

"I saw her at the farm last week.  Somebody who boards there had a couple of yearling fillies for sale, and one of my owners wanted me to take a look at them.  So, I drove down there, and when I came up to the filly pasture, the one that caught my attention was one I later found out was a Storm Bird filly.  I was hoping she was one of the ones for sale, but she wasn't.  After I left, I got to thinking about it, and remembered you saying something about Darla having a Storm Bird filly."

"Yeah," Starsky said.  "So, you liked her?"

"She's got way more potential than Danny."

"Really?" Hutch asked.  Then, cautious of being too optimistic, he demanded, "How would you know that?"

"It's too early to say how she'll be as a racehorse.  But the potential is certainly there.  She's got a completely different personality than Danny.  A lot of sass.  If that 'don't mess with me' attitude can be turned into 'don't get in front of me', she could be a heck of a racehorse."

"You really think so?" Starsky asked eagerly.

"She's got a beautiful stride on her.  She was running around in the pasture, and she just glides over the ground, so smooth.  So little effort."

Starsky's expression was excited as he looked at Hutch.  "That's really terrific to hear.  Danny doesn't seem so disappointing if Bri can turn out good."

"I'd love to have her in my barn."

Starsky said, "Well, I guess, she'll be at a training farm in a few months."

"September," Hutch said, still leery of feeling hopeful.

"Yeah," Starsky emphasized, "so I guess this time next year, she could be racing."

"That'll be nice" Hawkins replied, "if everything goes well with her training.  In the meantime, don't give up on Danny.  He's got a win in him."

As Hutch drove them home, Starsky was aglow with excitement, concerning Hawkins' statements about Bri.  Finally, he demanded of Hutch, "Isn't that cool?"

"Yeah," Hutch admitted.  Then he pointed out, "Just kind of interesting timing."

"What do you mean?"

"We're bummed about Danny, and then Mike up and mentions Bri -- and it's all good news."

"Meaning what?"

Hutch shrugged.

"Surely, you don't think he's exaggerating about Bri.  He seemed really serious."

"I know."

"Come on, Hutch.  Mike has always been totally straight with us.  He doesn't deserve our pragmatism."

"You're right," Hutch relented.

"I mean, he told us what we needed to do so Danny could have a chance, and we didn't listen.  Even so, with him finishing sixth, he thought Danny ran well.  I mean, he could have rubbed our noses in the fact that we didn't want to run him in a claiming race."

"You mean, more than he did?" Hutch sighed, and then admitted, "I'm just tired of all these horses costing us so much money.  There's no income."

"There will be next month, when we put Danny in a maiden claimer."

"Let's hope so."  Hutch rubbed at his face and decided to express what was really on his mind.  "I haven't been able to put any money away in savings for a few months now."

Starsky looked over at him.  "Really?"

"Yeah.  I had to cut back our salaries, in order to make all the monthly loan payments for our business, and pay for all our employees..  So, we have less money for household expenses.  And then ever since Danny was shipped to the track, his expenses have tripled.  There's nothing left over to put away in savings.  If he still doesn't run well, or gets hurt or something...."

More subdued, Starsky said, "Well, we could live off our savings for quite a while, if we had to."

"Sure.  But, remember, the whole goal was to have our therapeutic riding center, when we decide to retire.  We were shooting for having that by the time we're fifty.  That's only six years away."

"Man," Starsky said in disbelief.  "Can't believe how fast life is going by.  But that was just a loose goal, right?  I mean, I can't imagine retiring in six years."

"I can't, either.  So, that's going to get pushed back."

After a moment of silence, Starsky looked at Hutch worriedly.  "Are you sorry that we have all our horses?"

It hurt to hear Starsky ask that.  "No.  But...," Hutch shook a finger in a warning gesture, "don't get excited when I say this."

"Yeah?"

"I've just been thinking.  If the day comes at some point in the future where we do decide it makes sense to get out of the racing business -- hobby -- if we sold all our horses at once, that could be quite a windfall.  I mean, when the time comes.  If it does.  Even if Danny isn't worth anything, Darla and Bri are.  Darla keeps getting older, but she still has the potential for quite a few more foals, if she lives to at least twenty."

Starsky was silent.

Hutch went on.  "It's the same with our business.  I want to keep it moving forward.  Growing it.  Say, if by the time we're fifty-five years old, and it's worth a million dollars?  We could sell it.  Maybe demand fifty percent down, which would be quite a windfall.  Then get monthly payments, spread over ten years or whatever, for the rest, so we'd have a monthly income."

Starsky remained silent.

"I'm just saying that we can no longer count on our savings to see us through our retirement, if we have grandiose plans for something like a therapeutic riding center.  So, instead, we have to think in terms of cashing in our assets."

Starsky grunted.

Hutch looked over at him, grinning.  "It's actually a very positive thing, buddy.  That we have assets that are valuable.  Sure, I'd rather have extra money to keep putting away in savings.  But extra money just isn't there, while we're paying back the loans for our business, and for three horses that aren't earning an income.  Soon to be four, when Darla has another foal next spring."

"That would be something, though, if Bri turned out to be anything like her mother."

"Yeah, Bri's the wildcard.  If she's anything special, that'll be all the better for us."

When they arrived home an evening the following week, they were surprised that Nick wasn't there, as he was usually eager for dinner.

Hutch glanced at Starsky while reaching to the cupboard.  "Maybe he's having dinner at home," he said hopefully.

Starsky shrugged as he sat down at the table, leafing through the pile of mail they'd collected from the foyer floor.  "He didn't mention anything."

"Maybe he doesn't want to get our hopes up."

Starsky tossed the bills into a pile as he looked at each envelope.  "I've kind of gotten used to having him around, but I'd be happier if he returned home, where he belongs."

"Yeah."  Hutch sighed and shut the cabinet door.  "There's nothing to eat here.  I think we'll have to make do with sandwiches from the leftover chicken."  He moved to the refrigerator.

Starsky furrowed his brow as he picked up the next piece of mail.  "Mercy General Hospital?"  He looked up at Hutch, who brought a plate, covered in tinfoil, to the table.  "In Sacramento.  What's this?"  He started to open it.

Hutch's eyes widened.  "Maybe about Dobey's child?"

Starsky blinked.  It had been last October that they had sent a letter to the hospital, requesting the birth certificate for a child born to Hannah Wilby, probably in 1958, whom Captain Dobey had fathered but never taken responsibility for.  Before his death, Dobey had asked Starsky and Hutch to find the child and give him $20,000 cash he'd saved, along with a note of apology.

Starsky pulled out the single sheet of paper and unfolded it as Hutch stood over his shoulder.

"Copy of a birth certificate," Hutch said in a near whisper.

Starsky studied the boxes.  "Name: Jeremiah Franklin Wilby.  Mother: Hannah Alice Wilby.  Father: blank.  Date of birth: March 12, 1958."

"Dobey had a son."

"Yeah."  Starsky felt the enormity of that fact.  Gruffly, he said, "That seems to make it all the worse.  A son born without his father's name.  It's bad enough growing up without a father, but to not have his name...."

Hutch reached to the counter for a loaf of bread.  "Hannah Wilby might have married and her son could have had a father figure in his life."

Starsky continued to gaze at the paper as Hutch made sandwiches.  "Jeremiah Franklin Wilby.  Wonder if he goes by Jeremiah or Jeremy."

Hutch stuck a knife into a jar of mayonnaise.  "Or Jerry.  Or Jer."  He spread the mayonnaise. "That's what we need to find out.  His name, if his mother remarried.  If she's still alive.  We're going to need to know that, before we find him."

Starsky's instincts began to form a path.  "So, do you think we should drive up there?  See what we can find out?"

Hutch sat down, tilting his head.  "That could be really time consuming, and we might find out that they moved away a long time ago.  Maybe we should hire a P.I. up there, just to find out if Hannah Wilby still lives in the area, and anything else that's known about her.  We won't need to reveal that we're looking for her son."

Starsky nodded.  They had promised Dobey that they would never reveal anything that would lead to Dobey's family -- Edith, Rosey, and Calvin -- as he had left strict instructions they were never to know about his bastard child.  "Yeah, I suppose that could save us a wasted trip.  Then, if she is still living there, we can go ahead and make the trip up."

They started to eat, and then Hutch frowned and grabbed another piece of mail.  "What's this?"

It had a "Return to Sender" stamp on it.  Starsky looked at the address in the middle of the envelope as Hutch held it.  "You didn't even put the city and state on it, dummy.  You must have been in a hurry and left off an entire line of the address."

"Doesn't everyone around here know where Hollywood Park is?" Hutch scowled.  "This has the check for Mike Hawkins' training bill."

Soothingly, Starsky said, "Just put it in another envelope and mail it.  Call him, if you think he's worried that it's late."

"Na," Hutch said, subdued.  "We were going to send a courier to drop off the witness search report to the Michaelson law firm.  I'll just do that myself, since it's close to Hollywood Park, and then I'll go ahead and stop at the track to give Hawkins our payment." 

Starsky wondered if he might come along, but he had appointments with a couple of families concerning their ancestry tracings.  "See how Danny's doing," he muttered, "since he probably doesn't have balls anymore."

It was early afternoon when Hutch reached Mike Hawkins' barn.  He didn't see anyone around, but he heard a vaguely familiar voice from one of the stalls, as straw was being tossed into a wheelbarrow. 

"You can get a good job, if you go to a trade school," the vaguely familiar voice was saying.  "I'd like to do welding.  I think I'd be good at it."

There was the chuckle of another man.  "Thomas, you're such a dreamer.  Trade school or not, I can't see someone like you making good money.  Black or not."

"What do you mean, someone like me?  You think I'm just going to be someone giving baths and mucking stalls my whole life?"

"That's all I'm probably ever going to be.  How are you going to get the money for a trade school, anyway?"

"I dunno, Rudy.  Something will turn."

Hutch decided it was appropriate to interrupt.  He approached the stall where he saw that its equine occupant had her head tied to one side of where the two black-skinned grooms were cleaning.  "Hey, fellas, is Mike around?"

The man that Hutch recognized as Danny's groom said, "Na, he and Mrs. Hawkins went to get some lunch.  They'll probably be back in a half hour or so."

Hutch presented the envelope that had been stamped "Return to Sender.  "Your name is... Thomas, right?"

"Uh-huh."

"Can you make sure he gets this?"

The other groom, Rudy, nodded to one side.  "You can just leave it on his desk in the office.  It's not locked."

"Ok, I'll do that."  Hutch started to turn, then asked Thomas, "How's Danny doing?"  He glanced down toward the end of the shedrow, and could see Danny's head sticking out of his stall.

"He's fine," Thomas replied.  Then, more subdued, "Considering that he's missing the family jewels."

Hutch grinned, glad he didn't have Starsky with him to protest once again.  "That go okay?"

"Yeah, the vets do it all the time.  Or, so I'm told.  He hasn't acted like he's noticed."

Hutch remembered what Hawkins had said about how he wasn't sure that Thomas would stay on.  Amiably, he asked, "You're not sure that grooming racehorses is your future?"

Thomas went back to cleaning, his smile bashful, as though embarrassed at being overheard.  "It's all right.  The horses are fine.  Just hard to make much of a living."

Rudy nodded.  "You've got to love the horses and want to take care of them and be around them all the time.  Otherwise, there's no point in being a groom."

On a Sunday morning, Starsky and Hutch indulged in a bike ride along the path that ran from their neighborhood to the next.  They were both sweating and panting upon arriving home, since they hadn't gone biking often, but both were smiling from the exercise.

Starsky paused at the entrance ot the living room, when he saw Nick on the love seat in his boxer shorts, watching an episode of Star Trek.  "Why aren't you spending Sunday with your family?" he asked, plopping down on the sofa.

Nick kept his eyes on the TV.  "Absence makes the heart grow fonder.  Besides, for us to get back together, it needs to be her idea."  He glanced at Starsky.  "If I try to push it, it'll just be an excuse for her to be unsure that she wants me back."

Hutch sat next to Starsky with a glass of ice water.  "Nicholas Starsky, psychologist.  What are we watching?"

"Star Trek.  They're in 1930s America."

Starsky said, "Oh, I remember this one.  They go back in time to find Dr. McCoy in that big donut machine -- "

"Uh-huh.  The Guardian."

"-- and Kirk falls in love and the lady he loves has to die, or history will be changed."

Hutch sipped his water.  "That sounds cheery."

They watched a few moments of Kirk and Spock in a 1930s American city, and while wondering how they might meet up with Dr. McCoy, Spock said, "There could possibly be some logic to the belief that time is like a fluid, perhaps like a river, with currents and backwash... eddies..."  Kirk responded, "And our hope is that the same current which swept McCoy to a certain place or event, will take us there too."  Spock said, "Unless that is true, Captain, we have no hope."

The local station went to a commercial, and Starsky muttered, "Of course, Spock is right and they meet up with McCoy.  Because, like magic, they all end up in the same current of time."

Nick glanced at him with a snort.  "It wouldn't make for much of a story if they had no hope of finding McCoy."

Starsky nudged Hutch.  "Do you understand any of that stuff about how going back in time is supposed to work... let alone be able to do it in the exact place?"

"Not hardly."  Hutch glanced at Starsky with a smile.  "But why be so pragmatic about it?  Things have a way of working out, don't they?  Like when we found Joe Haymes' daughter, with the help of that psychic, Joe Collandra?"

"Just barely," Starsky said, feeling a flutter of his heart at how close she'd come to being crushed inside a van.

Hutch pressed, "Just because we don't understand how something can happen doesn't mean it can't happen."

Starsky waved a paper across him as he sat in his office chair.  "I thought the air conditioner guys were supposed to be here by now."  Mid July was the worst time for it to break down.

Hutch sat slumped in his chair.  "I'm sure they'll get here as soon as they can."  He turned back to his computer.

Starsky's phone beeped, and then Lois said with puzzlement, "David, there's a Peter Rockland from Sacramento on the phone.  He says he can talk to you or Ken and that you'll want to talk to him." 

Starsky placed the name just as Hutch had turned to face him with an eager expression.  "Put him through."  He got up to push their office door shut as Hutch came near, resting his hip against the counter that ran the length of the wall.

A moment later, the line rang, and Starsky pushed the speaker button before answering.  "Hi, Peter, this is Dave Starsky.  Hutch is here and we've got you on the speaker."

"Hi, fellas.  I wanted to let you know what I've found out."

"We're all ears," Hutch said.  He grabbed the nearest notepad and took out a pen.

"First, Hannah Wilby died last year, but she had lived in the same house in Sacramento her whole life.  It was the house her family has always been in, since that low income neighborhood was built in 1938."

As Hutch wrote, Starsky tried not to feel discouraged that they wouldn't be able to find Jeremiah through his mother.  "Uh-huh?"

"It's an old neighborhood, so I was able to talk to an elderly lady next door, Juanita Foster.  She's lived there at least as long as Hannah's family has.   She said that Hannah had a child out of wedlock, Jeremiah, when she was young.  It was one of those accidental things, and the father had a fiance and moved away to marry the fiance.  So, he was never in the picture.  Never contacted her about Jeremiah, never helped her out financially, or anything like that."

Hutch glanced up, feeling guilty on Dobey's behalf, as he continued to write.

Rockland went on. "She got married when Jeremiah was four or five, to a man named Henderson Lowell.  He was a decent husband and father, and Hannah had two daughters with him, Lorita and Hope.  Then, after about a dozen years, he got killed in a car wreck.  Hannah dated a few men but never remarried.  Her health had gone bad the last few years before her death.  Diabetes and heart trouble and probably some other things."

Starsky asked, "Do you know if her children are all still alive?"

"They all went separate ways.  Hannah would mention things about them to Juanita, but Juanita said she hadn't seen any of them in many years, until the funeral.  They were all there.  Lorita and Hope had each gotten married and moved away.   Jeremiah hadn't married and she never could get a straight answer out of him, as to what he was doing.  It was Hope's family that took care of selling the house, though it wasn't worth much."

When Rockland paused, Hutch asked, "Were you able to get any contact information on the children?"

"She said, at the funeral, that they all promised they'd stay in touch, but only Hope gave her a number, and it turns out it's no longer hers, because they moved.  She remembered Hope saying something at the funeral about her husband being with the military, and they have to move a lot.  Did you want me to try to track them down?"

Starsky exchanged a glance with Hutch.  "If you can get any addresses or phone numbers of the children, that would be great.  But don't make any contact with any of them.  We'll take it from there."

"Will do.  I'll also mail you my official report, along with my invoice.  It'll include Juanita Foster's information."

"Thanks, Peter."  Starsky cut the line.

Hutch drew a breath while looking down at his notes.  "Even if Hannah is no longer with us, at least the neighbor knew a lot about her."

"Yeah," Starsky said cheerfully.  "Looks like me really might be able to find Jeremiah."

Hutch's mouth corner twitched.  "Can't say I'm looking forward to telling him about his father, when we're not going to be able to say much."

Starsky rested his hands behind his head while feeling the stickiness of sweat in his armpits.  "We'll have to cross that bridge when we come to it."

On a hot, summer Sunday afternoon, Starsky parked the Corvette along the curb across from Lannie and Nick's house.  Despite Nick not currently living there, they were hosting a birthday party for Clark, Lorraine Hutchinson's long-time boyfriend.

As Starsky set the parking brake, he asked, "Got it?"

"Right here," Hutch replied, as they both got out of their cars.  He carried a wrapped, long thin box, which contained an engraved letter opener.

As they walked across the street, two-year-old Melinda came out the front door, and carefully moved down the two steps of the porch, and then ran out to them.

"Hi there, little lady," Hutch said, bending down to her.  "My, what a pretty blue dress you're wearing."

"It's Clark's birthday," she said.  "I have to be preeety."

Starsky chuckled and patted the top of her head.  "That you are.  In fact, you're the prettiest little girl I've ever seen in my life."

She looked from one to the other, then said, "I'm going to be pre-si-dent."

Starsky's eyes glanced down the block, wondering if there was a lemonade stand that she was in charge of.

"President of what?" Hutch asked with enthusiasm, while still bent over.

"Of. The. U-ni-ted. States."

Starsky blinked while watching his brother come out the front door of the house, puzzled as to where she'd gotten that idea from.  It's not like anyone would ever vote for a woman president.

Hutch straightened in mock amazement.  "Well, that's quite a tall order for a little lady.  But I'm sure you'll achieve it some day."

Melinda turned toward her father, while Starsky muttered to Hutch, "You're so full of it."

Hutch muttered back, "Don't want to discourage her."

"Hey, fellas," Lanette called from the screen door.  "We're all ready.  Mom and Clark have other plans later, so we're ready to eat."

Melinda raced up the walk toward her mother.  As the rest followed more leisurely, Starsky asked Nick, "Melinda thinks she's going to grow up to be president?"

Nick waved a hand.  "It's a thing between her and Lan.  Don't say anything about it.  Lan is determined that her daughter is going to have the encouragement to do big things in the world that she never felt she had."

Hutch said, "I'm all for that, but Melinda is only two."

Starsky scolded Nick, "And you were worried about her being teased at school about having two uncles who were married to each other?  Wait until she starts telling other kids she's going to be president."

Nick shook his head.  "Let's knock it off with the school stuff for now.  I'd be happy to put that off as long as possible.  She's growing up fast enough as it is." 

Hutch sighed.  "No argument from me."

An hour later, they all sat back with from the table, sighing from full stomachs, the result of a pot roast dinner and birthday cake.

Hutch considered how happy Clark and Lorraine seemed, after dating nearly a year.  He wondered if they intended to get married.  If so, it seemed that they shouldn't put if off much longer, considering that both were seniors.  Then he looked at Nick and Lannie, who both seemed to be enjoying themselves, interacting pleasantly, and wondered why they felt they could no longer live together.  Supposedly, their problems stemmed from Lannie spending too much time talking on the phone with a male friend, but Hutch suspected that was only the surface reason.  Human relationships tended to be incredibly complicated.

Hutch then draped his arm over the back of Starsky's chair, feeling grateful that they still had many years ahead, and all the years behind them had forged an unbreakable bond.  They were still very much in love, very much wanted to be with each other, were very much in agreement about where their lives were headed.  Perhaps most importantly, neither of them took what they had for granted.

With a pair of fingers, Hutch rubbed gently at Starsky's shoulder.

Starsky glanced back at him with a smile.

"-- and all that stuff," Nick was saying, "about eddies of time."

"What?" Lanette turned her head to ask him.  "Eddies of time?  What does that mean?"

"I don't know what the heck it means," Nick defended with humor.  "Just sounded cool.  Like, all things come together in a certain way.  In the episode, they had to find Dr. McCoy, to keep him from saving Kirk's love interest from being hit by a car, and even though they didn't jump through that giant donut together, Kirk and Spock still just happened to meet up with him at the right moment."

"Well," Lanette said, "if they only have an hour to tell the story..."

"City on the Edge of Forever" Clark put in.  "I used to watch Star Trek all the time.  That's a famous episode, written by Harlan Ellison, who's a great science fiction writer.  It's so much better than most of what one sees on television.  Kirk has to make a heart wrenching decision, that's painful to himself, to make everything right again in the universe.  Because, otherwise, if Edith Keeler, his love interest, didn't get killed by the car, history would be changed and all of existence as the Enterprise crew had known it would cease, as though it had never happened."

"Yeah," Nick said, "so, supposedly, there's some theory that certain things come together in time, so that it happens a certain way."  He ducked his head and amended, "I mean, I don't understand any of that stuff.  It's just kind of cool to think about."

Clark noted, "That suggests the universe has a consciousness.  Whether you call it God, or if you're an atheist and don't believe in a creator, it suggests that something is at work that draws things together at just the right time.  Spock is a scientist that thinks in pure logic, and even he gives credence to the idea of eddies of time, that things happen a certain way for a reason."  He nodded at Starsky and Hutch.  "Do you think it's pure coincidence that you happened to find each other?"

Hutch shook his head, smiling warmly.  "No.  It can't be coincidence."  He massaged Starsky's shoulder once again.

Starsky agreed, "I've never thought it was coincidence, or pure luck."  With a glance at Hutch, he added, "Nobody can have that kind of luck, for reasons of luck alone."  Then, as though wanting to lighten the mood, "Just like there could be eddies of time at work, so our little Miss Melinda can some day be president."

They all looked over at Melinda, who was on the floor, playing with building blocks.  She looked up.

Lorraine scolded, "Lanette, you need to stop telling her things like that.  A woman is never going to be president."

Firmly, Lanette countered, "You don't know that.  Geraldine Ferraro was in the running for Vice President in the last election.  Lots of countries have female leaders."

Nick sighed, "Hard to imagine it happening here.  But Melinda is only two.  Even if she does get into politics, she'd have to be in her forties or fifties, at least, to even consider it."  He looked at Lannie.  "We may not even still be alive by then, hon."

She gave him a smile.  "Even if not, it would still be quite a legacy to leave behind."

"There he is," Mike Hawkins said.  He was with Starsky, Hutch, and Mandy in the paddock for the first race, as the horses were coming over for the maiden claimer for 2yos, with a $14,000 claiming price.  Since the temperature had dipped a few degrees, Nick and Lannie, along with Lorraine and Clark, had also decided to attend, and the latter pairings had foregone the paddock and taken their places in Hawkins' grandstand box.

Starsky spotted the fourth horse among those that were approaching the entrance to the paddock.  The bay colt with a crooked star looked like Danny.  What was puzzling was the braids in his mane and tail.

Hutch was also puzzled.  "That's Danny with his mane all fancied up?"

"Yeah," Hawkins said.  "I had to let Thomas go.  He just wasn't cutting it as a groom, so Danny is in Rudy's care. Rudy like to get them spiffed up for their races.  I don't mind as long as he gets his other work done."

They all watched as Rudy halted Danny at the entrance to the paddock, where a man with a notebook in hand reached to roll back Danny's upper lip.

"He's checking for his tattoo?" Mandy asked.

"Yeah," Hawkins replied.  "That's to make sure we aren't running a ringer -- a lookalike horse that's better than Danny is, to cash a bet at high odds."

Starsky glanced up at the tote board.  "Eight to one isn't that high, considering he was thirty to one last time."

As Rudy led Danny toward the stall with a "2" over it, Hawkins noted, "Going from a maiden special weight -- some call maiden allowance -- down to a maiden claimer is considered one of the biggest class drops there is.  When you're competing against lower quality horses, you have a better chance."  He moved off toward the stall, then abruptly said, "Oh -- you know that this is the last weekend of the meet here, right?"

They all shook their heads.

"The circuit moves to Del Mar, outside San Diego, until Labor Day.  And then on to Santa Anita through the winter.  I won't be moving my stock until the week after next, since I don't have any horses racing the first week at Del Mar."  Hawkins moved to the stall where Rudy and Danny were waiting, along with the jockey's valet, who held Lester Knowles' saddle.

Hutch said, "Him having all those braids means that he's going to look pretty for the winner's circle photo."

"Yeah," Starsky grunted.  As they watched Hawkins saddle Danny, he felt that this might be as private a moment as any that they could have with Mandy.  He touched her shoulder and gently said, "Hey, how are you doing?"  She'd lost her cousin to suicide two months ago.

Mandy drew a breath.  "Some days, I think I'm fine.  Then other days, I start feeling really mad.  At her, for ending her life so young.  And then I start feeling guilty that I didn't even notice how messed up she was, let alone do anything to try to stop it, to try to help her feel better."

Hutch stepped in front of Mandy so that she looked up at him.  "Are you seeing anybody?" he asked softly.

She shook her head.  "I don't think I'm the kind of person that can do the therapy thing.  I think I'd just feel silly, sitting in a stranger's office, trying to tell them about my life."  She snorted softly.  "Sometimes, I feel like I want to go to the library, and find a whole bunch of books on life after death.  Just to reassure myself that Millie is out there somewhere, you know?"

Starsky nodded, feeling sad for her.

She went on, "But no matter what those books say, I don't think I'll ever believe them.  So, why bother?"

Starsky soothed, "There's no harm in trying to put your heart at ease.  And, for what it's worth, if you remember from my book, I'm pretty convinced that Terry Roberts, a love I lost, is still around.  I think she's communicated with me in dreams."

Mandy regarded him earnestly.  "But you can't ever really know that it's her.  Right?"

Hutch offered, "I guess that's why they call it faith."

A horse in the number eight stall reared up, and they all turned to watch.  Danny was saddled and Rudy led him out of the stall.

"He's sure nice and calm," Mandy said.

There was the crackling of the loud speaker.  "Race fans, we have a program correction.  The number two, Depth Charge, is now a gelding.  That's number two, Depth Charge.  He's been gelded since his last race."

Mandy pointed to her program.  "Oh, I see.  It says c, for colt.  But it should be a g?"

Hawkins nodded as he joined them. "Now his odds might go down."

"Why is that?" Hutch asked.

"There's a general belief that horses perform better, their first race after being gelded.  I don't know if anyone's ever really collected statistics on it, though.  Plus, Danny's going to do better, anyway, because of the drop in class."

Starsky liked hearing that statement of confidence.  As he looked at his program, he noticed, "Hey, the number four horse is named Depths.  Depths."  He tried that on his tongue while feeling offended at the similarity in name to Danny.  "Depths.  Who would name a horse Depths?"

"Is sounds kind of odd, doesn't it?" Mandy asked.

Hutch nodded.  "Might be hard to hear the difference between them on the loudspeaker."

"They don't look alike," Hawkins said.  "The four is a black horse."

The jockeys emerged into the paddock, and Knowles came to stand by their group.  He watched Danny walk around.  "He's gelded now, huh?"

"Yep."

Knowles nodded with assurance.  "He might get there this time."  Then, with a grin, "He's all braided up for the win photo."

"One of my grooms likes to braid them."  In a more sober voice, Hawkins said, "He's plenty fit, so you ought to have plenty of horse at the end.  I'm sure he won't be vying for the lead early, with the speed from the one." 

Starsky glanced at his program and saw that the number one horse, Bounce Around, was the morning line favorite at 5-2.

"If you have room to get him away from the rail," Hawkins added, "I think he'll be more comfortable going around horses."

A track official called, "Riders up!"

Each horse was led up to its group of humans.

Knowles took Danny's reins in hand, and then held his left leg back, so Hawkins could grab his ankle and hoist him into the saddle.

As the horse began to file around the paddock one more time, Mandy called, "Go get 'em, Danny!"

At the entrance to the track, the lead ponies took over from the grooms, to guide the horses out to the track.  As Rudy walked along to another part of the paddock, his job done until after the race, the slight swagger in the motion of his hips suddenly hit Starsky:  He's gay!  That explained the inclination to want to make the horses in his charge extra pretty for their races.

They were all moving along the grandstand, and Starsky gently slapped Hutch's arm with his program.  "I'm going to put ten dollars to win and place on him." 

"He's dropped to seven to one," Hutch noted.

"Still a longshot."

Starsky placed his bet and then joined their large group in Hawkins' box on the upper level of the grandstand.  He asked Nick, "Did you bet Danny?"

"Of course, older brother.  Just wish his odds hadn't gone down."

"When will the race start?" Lorraine asked.  The horses had warmed up and were now walking single file toward the starting gate, set at the 3/4 pole of the back stretch.

"A few more minutes," Starsky said.  "When they reach the starting gate, they'll load up, and then they'll be off."

"Do they go all the way around?" Clark asked.

"No, this race is six furlongs."

"Three-quarters of a mile," Hutch put it.

"They just go around the one turn," Starsky said.  "The young two-year-olds don't start running long races, where they go around two turns, until later in the year."  He squeezed Hutch's hand.  "Man, I hope he wins, with everyone here to be in the photo."

"Yeah, that would be terrific."

The announcer said, "It is now post time."

A chill went up Starsky's spine.

Hutch said, "That Bounce Around horse is now down to eight to five."

Hawkins was looking through his binoculars and said, "I wouldn't be surprised if he gets claimed out of this race.  He's got the best record, and he's coming down from a maiden special weight, like Danny is, but he was a strong third."

Puzzled, Starsky asked, "Then why would they put him in a cheap claiming race, if someone might claim him?"

Hawkins glanced at him.  "It's a small outfit.  They probably need a win.  It's hard to keep your horses in hay and oats when you aren't winning any races.  So, sometimes you have to risk the claim to get the win."

Clark said, "Yeah, the guys were explaining to us that a claiming race is where all the horses are for sale; but, I guess, you aren't worried about Danny being claimed."

Hawkins shook his head.  "There's nothing in his workouts or his only start that says he's worth spending $14,000 on."

Lanette looked up from her program. "One of the jockeys in named Nadine Harrison.  So, that's a woman?"

"Yeah," Hawkins replied.  "She doesn't get many mounts.  She hangs around my barn sometimes, begging for a ride."  He shook his head.  "Girls don't have the strength that it takes to ride a racehorse."

Mandy said, "I thought, in general, girls are more into horses than boys."

"Yeah, but we're not talking about riding a show horse, or a cow pony in your backyard.  A racehorse is a half ton animal going thirty-five miles per hour.  It takes a lot a strength to maneuver them around.  It's not like regular riding, where you use leg pressure to cue the horse to go faster, or help him turn.  The jockey's legs are too high to be very effective.  So, it's mostly upper body strength that keeps a horse forward, whether they're using a whip, or just trying to encourage the horse on with the sheer force of their body. I've never known a girl jockey to be much good."

Lanette quipped, "Maybe because they aren't given a chance."

Nick moved next to Starsky.  "Looks like they're almost loaded."

The horses were moving in quickly, and all standing well.

Starsky squeezed Hutch's arm.  "Ah, man, Hutch, I hope Danny shows he can win."

"All in line," the announcer said.  The gates sprung open, the horses leapt forward, and a bell inside the grandstand signaled the close of the betting windows.  "Bounce Around gets away well and goes right to the lead.  Depths and Rubber Road are vying for second, then it's two back to Metal Detected.  Charley's Dream is on the rail fifth..."

Starsky studied the field of twelve horses and they began to string out along the backstretch.  "Looks like he's seventh or eighth." 

Bounce Around was now four length in front.

"Dammit," Hawkins said.  "The lead horse is gone.  With nobody pressuring him, he's going to win easy.  Everyone else is running for second."

Starsky sighed, but refused to lose hope.

Hutch said, "Knowles has moved Danny to the outside."

"Come on, Danny!" Mandy shouted.  "Isn't he moving up?"

With enthusiasm as the horses entered the turn, the announcer said, "They're all going to have to catch Bounce Around, because he's five lengths in front.  Metal Detected has moved into second while Rubber Road drops back.  Depths is trying to keep up, and Charley's Dream is gaining ground on the outside, followed by Depth Charge.  Then its Ima Lunatic and another three lengths back to Wolf Fang...."

"He's fifth!" Starsky declared.  Danny was moving farther away from the horses behind him, but the horses in front were also moving farther away.

Everyone in their group was on their feet, and the crowd came alive as the horses turned into the homestretch.

The announcer boomed, "It's still Bouncing Around four lengths in front, under a confident hand ride.  Ima Lunatic is moving up on the rail, and then it's two back to Metal Detected, and Depth Charge is rallying past Charley's Dream."

"He's gaining," Hutch said hopefully.

"Come on, Danny!" the rest of them cheered. 

There was no catching Bounce Around, and his jockey sat completely still as he approached the finish line.  Behind him, it was a horse race, with the jockeys riding hard.  Metal Detected and Danny were noses apart, and catching up to Ima Lunatic. 

The announcer declared, "Here's the wire, with Bounce Around winning easily.  Looks like Metal Detected had a long nose over Depth Charge, and Ima Lunatic was another head back in fourth."

Starsky released a heavy breath, feeling his heart pound.  "Wow.  At least, he improved, huh?"

Lorraine said, "It was over so fast."

"In the movies," Clark said with amusement, "the winner always comes from last place."

Hawkins laughed briefly, "That's just the movies.  In real life, the winner is usually on the lead or near the lead most of the race." He looked at Starsky and Hutch and nodded.  "This is where he belongs.  Bounce Around was way better than this field.  With him out of the race, Danny would have been a close second."

The announcer said, "Please hold all tickets until the race has been declared official."  A phone was heard ringing over the loudspeaker.

"The winner got claimed," Hawkins said.

"How do you know?" Hutch asked.

The horses had been slowed to a jog on the backstretch and were now cantering back toward the grandstand.

"I heard the phone ring in the announcer's booth.  That's probably the racing office, telling him that a horse got claimed."

"It better not be Danny," Starsky muttered.

The announcer said, "There were two claims out of this race.  The winner, Bounce Around, was claimed by trainer Morton Simms.  The number two, Depth Charge, was claimed by trainer Rex Warden."

Starsky felt a punch to his gut.  "WHAT?"

"Oh, no," Hutch muttered.

They all looked at Hawkins, whose mouth had fallen open.  "That doesn't make any sense."

Mandy asked, "You mean, we don't own Danny any more?"

Hawkins shook his head.  "That doesn't make any sense at all.  For one thing, Rex Warden's barn is next to mine.  There's an unwritten rule that you don't claim horses from your neighbor."  Sounding offended, he added, "We say hello to each other every day."

"Can we buy him back?" Starsky asked on a high note. 

"He'll likely run for a higher price next time, since they wouldn't have claimed him unless they think they can move him up in class.  But, yes, you can claim him back.  I just wouldn't recommend it.  $14,000 is a good price."

Hutch squeezed Starsky's hand as Bounce Around was led into the winner's circle.

The announcer said, "We have a correction.  A correction.  On the second horse that was claimed.  It was the number four, Depths, that was claimed by Rex Warden.  Not Depth Charge."

Starsky almost felt faint with relief.

The announcer repeated, "The two horses claimed from the race were Bounce Around and Depths."

"That's more like it," Hawkins said, clearly relieved.

"Thank God," Starsky said.  "Maybe Danny will win next time".

Hutch reminded, "But we might not be able to be there, since he'll be at Del Mar."

As they drove home in the Corvette, Starsky said, "Man, that scared the shit out of me, when it sounded like Danny was claimed."

Hutch chuckled softly.  "It certainly threw Hawkins for a loop.  But, you know, he was right that it didn't make any sense for anyone to claim Danny.  And he was right that the winner was going to get claimed."

"Yeah.  But he didn't know that Depths was going to get claimed, too.  Man, I wonder if the people who own him now are sorry they claimed him.  He finished pretty far back, I think."

Hutch reached to the floorboard where he'd tossed his program, and opened to the first race.  "He's the one that was ridden by that girl jockey.  Nadine Harrison."

Starsky grunted.  "Did you hear Lanette say that maybe girl jockeys aren't given a chance?"

"Yeah, but Mike seemed pretty firm in his opinion that they aren't strong enough."

Starsky tilted his head.  "Wonder if it's because that's the general consensus, or if he's actually tried a female rider before."

Hutch looked over at him in surprise.  "You want him to put someone like Nadine Harrison on Danny?"

Starsky shrugged.  "Maybe horses would respond better to a woman's touch, than the brute strength of a man."

Hutch blinked.  "Well, first, girls would be more in demand, if they rode better.  Second, Danny moved from a distant sixth to a decent third, based upon Mike's expertise, so I wouldn't want to be arguing with him."

Starsky was contemplative for a long moment, then said, "I know you're right.  It's just that, you know, thinking about Melinda and the things she might want to do in life, and having doors slammed in her face because she's female.  I mean, girl jockeys aren't ever going to do well in races, if the only horses they have a chance to ride are nags like Depths."

Hutch sighed.  "I'm just glad that Danny paid for his expenses this month.  Finally, he's earned something."

Cheerfully, Starsky reminded, "Darla won after she finished third in her first race.  So, maybe he will, too."

"Just wish Del Mar wasn't three hours away.  I'd hate to not be there if he wins, because we can't necessarily take the whole day off every time he runs."

"Well, at least his new groom will have him probably doo-dadded up for the win photo, like he was today.  Did you notice he was gay?"

Hutch looked over at him.  "How do you know?"

"Just the way he walked, when I had a chance to notice.  And putting so much effort into making Danny look pretty."

Hutch thought back to when he'd dropped off the training payment a couple of weeks ago.  "I hope Thomas, the prior groom, is doing okay.  I overheard him talking with Rudy, I think his name is, and he was saying that he hoped to go to a vocational school, like to learn welding or something like that.  But he didn't have the money.  He certainly didn't sound like his passion concerned taking care of horses."

"Well," Starsky shrugged, "it's not our concern."

The following week they were in their office when Lois entered the doorway, holding out a manila envelope to Starsky, since his desk was nearest the door.  "This just came in the mail.  It's marked Confidential.  Addressed to both of you."

"Thanks," Starsky said, accepting it.  The return address read Rockland Investigative Services.  After Lois moved away, he said to Hutch, "It's the information from Rockland in Sacramento."

Hutch came to stand near as Starsky tore the envelope open.

There was a variety of typed reports, and a handwritten note.  Starsky read, "I wasn't able to find a current address on any of the children.  The closest I got was a phone number to a friend of Hannah's daughter Hope.  The friend, Jennifer Pauls, said that it's hard to get a hold of them, because they move around a lot, since Hope's husband is in the military."

Hutch reached for a page.  "This is the information on Juanita Foster, the neighbor of Hannah Wilby."  He rubbed at his lower lip.  "I wonder if we should drive up there.  Talk to her ourselves. We might learn more, talking to her in person."

Starsky sighed, not liking the idea of that long drive.  "I've got appointments up the wazoo this week.  I don't know when I'm going to have time.  Besides, we should fly instead of drive.  But it's still going to be at least half a day."

"Yeah, and that's assuming Juanita will be around."  Hutch snapped his fingers.  "Oh, don't forget that we supposed to meet the Colter law firm for lunch on Thursday."

That was a firm that was considering giving their investigative business to Starsky & Hutchinson, Inc.

"Yeah," Starsky said.  He continued to leaf through Rockland's documents.  "Even talking to Juanita, she's still not going to be able to give us any addresses or phone numbers, since she couldn't to Rockland."

Hutch lowered his head.  "Then, do you have any ideas what we should do next?"

Starsky browsed through the three pages that Rockland had typed up from his interview with Juanita.  Most of the facts he already knew from Rockland's phone call two weeks ago.  He found one new piece and read, "She said that it was ironic that Jeremiah didn't have a father in the picture, because he really took after his mother, as far as looks.  He looked more like his mother than even her daughters.  They took more after their father, Henderson Lowell."  He sat back with a sigh.  "Let's try calling this phone number for the friend of Jeremiah's sister, Hope."

"Can't hurt."

Starsky pushed the speaker button, and then punched in the numbers from the report.

"What's her name?" Hutch asked.

"Jennifer Pauls."

They both listened to the phone ring three times.  Then a female voice answered, "Hello?"

"Yes, is this Jennifer?" Starsky asked.

"Yes, it is.  Who's calling?"

"My name is David Starsky and I'm with a private investigative firm.  We'd like to talk to Hope....," Starsky looked for her married name, "Langley, if that's possible."

There was the noise of paper.  "Sure, I can take down your information, but I only hear from her about once a week.  Can I tell her what this is concerning?"

"We're looking for her half brother, Jeremiah.  We have some important information that we know he'd like to have, but we don't know how to get in touch with him.  Please have her call and ask for me, David Starsky.  Or my partner, Ken Hutchinson."  He waited until she paused in her writing, and then gave her multiple phone numbers.

"Okay," she said, "I think I've got that all."

"Please have her call," Starsky emphasized.  "Any time of the day or night.  It's very important that we find her brother."

"Okay, I'll pass it along."

"Thanks."  Starsky cut the line.

Hutch muttered what Starsky was thinking.  "If Jeremiah has been in trouble with the law, Hope won't be eager to help us find him."

"Yeah.  But hopefully the fact that we gave out our personal numbers and all that, will at least make them less suspicious that we're the law."

It was going on two Thursday afternoon when Hutch was driving the LeBaron away from a seafood restaurant in Inglewood.

Starsky sat low in his seat.  "God, I'm stuffed.  I can hardly even move.  Feel like I want to go home and take a nap."

Hutch felt similar, but didn't voice it.  At least, the meeting with the Colter firm had gone well, and Mr. Colter had assured them that his firm would call them the next time it had an investigative assignment.

Starsky went on, "I'm not going to be able to get any work done back at the office."

Hutch waited for more, and when Starsky was silent, he prompted, "Do you really want to go back home?"

Starsky straightened and looked around.  "The track is just a few blocks away."

"The horses have all moved to Del Mar," Hutch reminded.

"Maybe not yet," Starsky said.  "I specifically remember Mike saying that they weren't shipping to San Diego until a week after the Hollywood Park meet closed."  More cheerfully, he suggested, "Maybe we should say goodbye to Danny.  It might be a while before we get down that way to see him run."

Hutch wasn't eager to return to the office, either.  He turned on his blinker, in preparation to make a left turn.

The Hollywood Park barn area was only sparsely populated, and they were relieved that Mike Hawkins' barn wasn't deserted; in fact, there was a buzz of activity, with noises of the gathering of supplies and tack boxes being locked.

"Hi, fellas," Hawkins greeted with surprise.

"We just thought we'd say goodbye to Danny, since we're not sure if we'll have a chance to see him run at Del Mar," Hutch said.

Hawkins nodded down the shedrow.  "He's all ready to go, along with the rest.  The van that was supposed to be here at noon broke down, so they're sending another.  It probably won't get here for at least another hour or so."

They moved down the row of horses, all with their heads sticking out of their stalls, until they came to Danny's stall.  A short, petite woman was petting Danny's nose, cooing to him.  She was in faded jeans and carried a riding crop in one hand.  She looked up when she saw Starsky and Hutch approach and then stepped back.

Hutch wondered who she was and reached to pet Danny's nose.  "Hey, fella."

Starsky looked into his stall.  "Man, look at those thick bandages on his legs."

Rudy petted Danny's hindquarters from inside the stall.  "They're to keep him protected during the van ride."

The woman asked, "You guys own this horse?"

"Uh-huh," Starsky said.  He stroked Danny's neck.

She held out her hand.  "I'm Nadine Harrison.  Nice to meet you."

Hutch tried to sound enthused.  "Oh, you're the jockey."

"Sure am.  I'd love to ride your nice boy."

Hawkins moved past them with a wheelbarrow full of straw.  "Get in the top ten of the rider standings at Del Mar, and I might think about it," he said flippantly.

Hutch thought that was impossible, if she hardly got to ride any horses, let alone good horses.

She moved to stroke Danny's nose.  "I think he likes me.  Want him to break his maiden next out?"

Hawkins had dumped the wheelbarrow's contents into a muck pile, and now turned it around.  "Danny likes everybody, and he's got a good chance of breaking his maiden next out, anyway."

Starsky said, "If he doesn't, I'm just thinking we should give Nadine a chance."

Hawkins straightened with a sigh, eying him firmly.  "You want to over-ride my choice of jockey?"

"No," Starsky protested, "I'm just saying that if he still can't get the job done next out... maybe we ought to at least give Nadine a try."

"That's right," Nadine said with a big smile.  "You can't know how I can turn him into a winner if you don't give me a chance."

"Don't start with me," Hawkins said wearily, leaving the wheelbarrow and moving briskly back toward his office.

Starsky shrugged at Nadine.  "We'll keep working on him, if Danny doesn't win."

She nodded.  "Thanks for your support.  I need to go home and get myself packed for Del Mar."  She turned with a wave.  "Hope to see you guys around."

"Have a good trip," Hutch said, and they watched her move off.

They went back to petting Danny, who enjoyed the attention, when Mike came back their way, with an envelope in hand.  "Hey, Rudy."

Rudy came out of Danny's stall.  "Yeah?"  He closed the stall door behind him.

"Thomas never picked up his last paycheck.  Do you have any idea where he is?"

Rudy shrugged.  "No.  I mean, he was in an apartment on Levine Street.  I haven't talked to him since his last day."

Hutch knew that Levine Street was in an older, rundown part of town.

"Crap," Hawkins said, rubbing his chin while looking at the check.  "If I mail it, I'm not sure he'll get it, if he's not at that address anymore.  I would have thought he'd want to pick it up."

Starsky suggested, "Maybe he didn't realize the circuit is moving to Del Mar, and that you wouldn't be here after today."

"Yeah, but if he's out of work, you'd think he'd be all the more eager to pick up his last paycheck."

Hutch said, "Hey, Mike.  We're private investigators.  Finding missing people is what we do.  You can trust us with his check, and we'll do what we can to find him."

"Maybe leave a note on your office door," Starsky suggested, "with our phone number, in case he comes by here to pick it up."

Hawkins seemed relieved.  "Are you sure you guys don't mind?"  He held out the envelope.

"Not at all," Starsky said, accepting it.

Hutch noted, "It might not take any time at all, if he's still living on Levine Street.  Maybe he just hasn't had a chance to come by."

"I really appreciate this, guys.  That's a worry off my plate."

Starsky patted Hawkins' shoulder.  "Consider it handled unless you hear from us otherwise."

"Fantastic.  Rudy, double-check Chickadee's bandages.  It looked like one was coming lose."

"Sure thing."  Rudy moved off.

"Thanks again, guys." Hawkins turned away.

Starsky reached to stroke Danny's face.  "Okay, Danny boy, you be good and fast at Del Mar.  Don't be afraid to win, even if we can't be there."

Hutch gave the velvety nose a final pat.  "We know you're a winner."

They moved off toward the parking area in front of the barn.

Hutch said, "We may as well see if we can find Thomas, in case he's still at his last address."

"Yeah."

They got in the LeBaron and Hutch started the motor.  "Levine and what?"

Starsky looked at the envelope that had the typed name and address showing through the clear window of the envelope.  "452 Levine."

Hutch turned to look behind him, and then backed out of their parking space.  He moved down the dirt lane that would lead them out of the barn area, going slowly, even though there weren't any horses around.

"Hutch."  Starsky's voice was a soft, startled whisper.

Hutch glanced over at him, noting that Starsky's mouth had dropped open as he stared at the front of the envelope.  "What?" he asked worriedly.  He slowed the car and pulled to one side.  "What is it?"

Eyes wide with disbelief, Starsky held up the front of the envelope to him.  "Look at the name."

Hutch read the top line of address. "Jeremiah Franklin Wilby."  He blinked.  Then blinked again as he placed the name.  "What?"  He shook his head to clear it.  "That's impossible."  Then louder to express his disbelief.  "That's not possible!"

Starsky stared at the windshield.  "Thomas is Dobey's son."

Hutch shouted, "But why would he go by Thomas?   I don't remember a Thomas coming up anywhere in Jeremiah's background."

"I don't know," Starsky muttered.  "But Mike wouldn't be giving us a paycheck made out to Jeremiah Franklin Wilby, and telling us to give it to somebody named Thomas, unless they were the same person.  There's what?  A half dozen grooms or so that work at the barn?"  He snorted.  "It's not like there's some kind of mistake and the paychecks got mixed up."

Hutch realized he was still shaking his head, unable to believe it.

Starsky snapped his fingers.  "Remember that cop we knew, who went by Garson?  Turned out, his legal name was Michael Daniel Stout.  He went by Garson, because he had a coach in high school who called him that, since the coach had known a Garson with a similar personality, or something like that.  He told us the name has always stuck, especially since he looked up to that coach and liked having a nickname."

Hutch put the LeBaron back on the dirt road, his stomach still churning with disbelief.  "This is a hell of coincidence."

"But a beneficial one. Maybe Dobey's up there somewhere," he indicated the sky, "trying to help things along."

Hutch didn't reply.

They had spent the  ten minute drive to Levine Street discussing what they should tell Thomas about Dobey while still honoring their late captain's wishes to not let the fact of his illegitimate son get back to his legitimate family.

Now, Hutch sat in the LeBaron with the motor running, in a "No Parking" space in front of the old apartment building with the address 452, since there weren't any convenient places to park.  He looked up when he saw Starsky emerge from the front door, the envelope for Thomas in his hand.

"He's still a tenant here," Starsky said as he got in.  "He's moving out on Saturday, which is the first.  I knocked on his door, but he's not here right now.  I didn't want to put this," he indicated the envelope, "under the door, because he might not get back in touch with us."

"Yeah."  Hutch saw a police parking enforcement vehicle in his rear view mirror, and he pulled into traffic. 

"The manager said he didn't know where he was," Starsky went on.  "Or if he found a new job, or anything like that."

Hugh sighed.  "We'll have to find somewhere to park and wait for him to come home."

Starsky straightened in his seat, leaning toward the windshield.  "Is that him?  Walking by that store with the yellow banner?"

It was over on the right, and Hutch spotted another empty "No Parking" zone.  "It looks like he's wearing a Hollywood Park cap," he said, accelerating to grab the spot.

Starsky had already hit the button to lower his window and then held out the envelope.  "Hey, Thomas!"

Thomas looked up and regarded them in puzzlement.

"Your paycheck!"

Thomas came trotting over to the car, and bent to look into the window.  Perplexed, he said, "You're Danny's owners.  Is Danny all right?"

"Yeah. He's fine.  Get in, and we'll give you your paycheck.  We told Mike Hawkins we'd find you and give it to you."

Thomas hesitated a moment, and then pulled open the door to the backseat and got in.  "I was going to pick that up later today."

Hutch pulled into traffic once again, as Starsky shook his head and said, "They're shipping out today, to Del Mar.  Near San Diego.  Mike was afraid you wouldn't stop by before they left."

"Great, thanks." 

Hutch watched in his rearview mirror as Thomas leaned toward Starsky's seat, holding out his hand.

Starsky turned in his seat to face Thomas.  He held onto the envelope and read, "Jeremiah Franklin Wilby."  He glanced up.  "That's your real name?"

"Yes, my legal name," Thomas said impatiently.

Starsky handed him the envelope.  "Why do you go by Thomas?"

Thomas folded the envelope and stuck it into his shirt pocket.  "Why do you care?"

"Just curious.  It was kind of odd looking for someone we knew as Thomas, when the paycheck said something completely different."

Thomas shrugged.  "I had a great uncle named Thomas.  I thought he was a neat guy."  Another shrug.  "After I left home, I just decided I wanted a different name.  Like, to re-invent myself, I guess."

Gently, Starsky asked, "Is your mother named Hannah Wilby?"

There was a long moment of silence as Thomas gazed at Starsky.

Starsky pressed.  "She lived in Sacramento, where you were born, until she died last year?"

In a tense voice, Thomas asked, "Who are you?"

Hutch made a turn, and Thomas demanded, "Where are we going?"  He scooted toward the door.

In a soothing tone, Starsky said, "We would like to talk to you for a while.  See, Hutch and me knew your father.  Your real father.  The one you never knew."

"What?"

"I know this is a shock to you, but we've been looking for Jeremiah Wilby for a while now.  It's pure coincidence that we happened to notice that the name on your paycheck matched the name on the birth certificate, for the son of Hannah Wilby, with no father listed, that we've been looking for.  But the person who asked us to search for you, as a favor to him as dying wish, was a friend of ours.  And your biological father."

"Why?" Thomas demanded breathlessly.

"Because he always felt bad about how he left things with your mother, and he knows he's wronged you."

Hutch put in, "We're taking you back to our place, because Dob -- your father -- left something that he wanted you to have."  He caught himself from using Dobey's name.

Thomas exhaled a heavy breath and rubbed his hands about his face.   Then, softly, "Who was he?  My father?"

Starsky drew a long breath.  "He passed away a year ago.  Hutch and me used to work for him."  He looked at Hutch, shifting with discomfort.  "Look, he had a family, and one of his biggest concerns is that his family never find out that he had an illegitimate son.  They're innocents in this."

Hutch put in, "We know you are, too."

"Yeah," Starsky muttered.  "But we promised.  So, we can't tell you his name, or specifically where he worked.  But he was an upstanding member of society.  He had a good job.  He was in law enforcement."

"Law enforcement?" Thomas asked in surprise.

"Yeah.  He'd worked his way up to a good position.  We used to be cops, and we worked under him."

Hutch wondered if they were giving away too much, since if Thomas ever found out about Starsky's book, he could trace Dobey's identity from there.  He said, "We're so sorry that there's not much we can tell you."

Thomas swallowed.  "What can you tell me?"

On the drive to their house, Starsky and Hutch shared with Thomas what they could.  Now, they had him seated at their kitchen table with a beer.

Thomas had grown increasingly contemplative, wavering between an eager desire to hear anything they had to say about his biological father, and flippant remarks, hinting at brewing anger, that learning all of this now was of no use to him, let alone being the least bit comforting.

"Look," Starsky said, sitting across from Thomas, "Hutch and me tried to talk your father into letting us look for you, while he was still alive.  Because, after everything, if he was sorry for the bad deal you got, it seemed like he could at least meet you, especially since his health was failing and he knew he was running out of time."

"But he wouldn't let us," Hutch put in.  "Had us promise that we would find you and give us what he left for you, and leave it at that."

Starsky pushed away from the table.  "I'll get it."

Hutch reached to squeeze Thomas' hand.  "I know this isn't easy -- hearing all this, and still not be able to know everything.  He was the first to admit that he handled it badly, because he was so determined to not mess things up with the woman he'd decided to marry."

Thomas' jaw was firm.  "What good does it do me to know this now?"

Starsky appeared with a thick white sealed envelope.  "Hopefully, you'll be able to accept what he left for you."  He gave Hutch a hesitant glance, and then said, "We haven't counted it, but he said it's twenty thousand.  He'd been secretly saving it up for a long time, to some day give to you."  He placed the envelope before Thomas, who stared at it.

Hutch said, "I sure you'd rather have his name, but... he wanted to at least try to do something that might help you out."

Thomas' mouth twisted.  "So, he's trying to buy my forgiveness?"

"Dob--", Starsky quickly corrected, "He is wherever he is right now.  I've no doubt that's a good place.  He knew no amount of money was going to make up for what he called his own cowardice."  He leaned toward Thomas.  "Look, I know what it's like to grow up without a father for most of your childhood.  Mine was murdered when I was eleven.  I had his name, and that means a lot.  But I still had a lot of anger about everything I missed out on -- that I felt other boys had instead."

When Starsky didn't add anymore, Hutch made his voice hopeful.  "I overheard you and Rudy talking at the stables, when you were telling him that you wanted to learn a craft, like welding."  He put his hand on the envelope.  "With this, you can do that.  Get a skill, and be able to focus on that, so that you'll always be able to make a good living, after this money is gone."

Sadly, Thomas said, "If he'd had any interest in ever getting to know me, he would have known that I wouldn't try to mess things up for his 'legitimate' family."

Hutch bowed his head.  "I know.  It's hard for us," he glanced at Starsky, who nodded, "to not be able to tell you everything about him that we'd like to.  Like we said, we don't agree with how he handled this."

Thomas gazed at the envelope for a long time.  Then he cocked his head.  "Did he," he held his hands out from his stomach and curved them downward, "have a large belly?"

Hutch looked at Starsky in puzzlement, and replied, "Yes, he was a large man.  Always battled with his weight, which I'm sure had a lot to do with his poor health."

Thomas ran his hand over the top of his head.  "Have short black hair?  A mustache?  Wore a suit all the time?"

"Yeah," Starsky said, sounding as surprised as Hutch felt.  "How do you know that?"

Thomas snorted and shook his head.  "This is crazy."

"What is?" Hutch asked.

"A few months back, I had this dream.  Real short.  Nothing really happened in it, that I remember.  But I saw this big-bellied man, with short hair and a mustache, wearing a suit... and I had the passing thought that he was my father.  But when I woke up... I mean, there's no way I could know if he was my father, so I put it out of my mind."

Softly, Starsky said, "Maybe it was him."

Thomas looked from Starsky to Hutch.  "So, you guys were, like, looking for me at the stables?"

"No, no," Hutch corrected.  "This has nothing to do with us owning Danny.  We never associated you with Dob -- our prior employer -- in any way.  You were just Danny's groom.  But like we said, when we told Hawkins that we'd find you to give you your final paycheck -- since we're private investigators and that's what we do -- it wasn't until we saw your legal name on your paycheck that...," he shrugged helplessly, "it was the most incredible coincidence, because we'd been searching for Jeremiah Wilby since Dob -- our friend -- died."

Starsky shrugged.  "Maybe he somehow helped us find you.  I believe in stuff like that."

There was a silence, and Hutch made his voice cheerful.  "The neighbor that lived next door in Sacramento would love to hear from you, and your half sisters.  She was able to provide some information, but we hadn't yet been able to get in touch with any of Hannah's children."

Thomas smiled warmly.  "Yeah, Juanita was a nice lady.  Almost like family."

"She's not too happy that no one has been in touch with her," Hutch pressed.

"Yeah, I guess the family scattered after Mom died."

There was another silence, and Starsky placed his hand on top of the envelope.  "Your father told us that there was a note in here for you.  We don't know what it says, but I'm sure whatever explanation he gives won't make it okay."

Hutch mused, "I hope, eventually, you can find it in your heart to not judge him too harshly.  We all make hard decisions sometimes.  It's not always the right ones.  I just hope you can take that money," he nodded at the envelope, "and do something useful with it, like go to welding school.  Or even get a college education."

"But," Starsky cautioned, "I wouldn't make any rash decisions.  Give yourself some time to let this all sink in.  You can just put the money in the bank where it's safe, until you decide what to do."

Hutch retrieved his wallet and pulled out a business card.  "Here's our card.  Please keep it with you, and don't hesitate to get back in touch if you need anything.  Anything at all.  We care what happens to you."

Starsky nodded.

Thomas sighed.  "Yeah, okay.".  He picked up the card and brought the envelope to his chest.  "I need to be alone a while.  I think I'd like to take a cab home."

After Thomas had left in a taxi cab, Starsky and Hutch each checked in at the office and made phone calls that they felt couldn't wait until tomorrow.  Afterward, they retreated to the living room and sat on the sofa.

"Man", Starsky said, "I sure hope Thomas is going to be okay."

"I think he will.  I thought he handled all that very well.  He doesn't strike me as the type to go and blow all that money."

"Hopefully not.  Man, it was all I could do to keep Dobey's name out of the conversation.  I kept wanting to say 'Dobey this' and 'Dobey that'."

Hutch drew a breath.  "I've been thinking about that."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah.  If he gets back in touch, wanting to know more, I say we go ahead and tell him who Dobey was.  I trust him that he wouldn't try to get in touch with Edith and the kids."

Starsky met Hutch's eye.  "That would certainly make things easier for us.  Just feels like betraying Dobey."

Hutch arched his eyebrows.  "Are you sure?  After what Thomas said about his dream?"

Starsky snorted, "Man, that was weird, wasn't it?"  He cocked his head, then muttered, "Wonder if it really was Dobey guiding things, from beyond the grave.  I mean, how weird is that?  That Thomas was right in front of us, when we spent time at the stables?"

"Yeah.  He certainly doesn't have any characteristics that would make me think of Dobey."

"Well, remember, the neighbor said that his physical appearance took after his mother."

"Yeah."

They heard the front door open.  A moment later, Nick appeared.  "What are you guys doing home?  I thought you had lunch with some law firm."

"We did," Hutch replied.  "And then we had a personal matter we had to take care of."

"Speaking of personal matters," Starsky said, "when are you going to go home to your wife?  I think you're getting close to over-staying your welcome."

While he stood at the entrance to the living room, Nick held his thumb and forefinger an inch apart.  "She's this close to asking me back.  Like I told you before, it's got to be her idea.  She's making noises that she's wanting some bedroom action."

Hutch scolded, "Hey!  That's my sister you're talking about."

While Starsky grinned, Nick curled his hand into a fist and he shook it once.  "I've got to hold strong.  Keep her wanting.  She's got to say the words, 'I want you home, for good.'  Otherwise, we won't be sure if I'm living there or not living there."  He moved across the living room to the love seat, grabbing the remote and clicking on the television.  A movie was on and he clicked a few channels and plopped down onto the cushions while a commercial was on the screen.  He glanced at his watch.  "Star Trek should be on."

Starsky muttered to Hutch, "God forbid we miss an episode of Star Trek."

"As though it isn't on often enough," Hutch put in.

Eyes on the screen, Nick asked, "What's for dinner?"

Starsky scoffed, "Whatever you get off your lazy ass and cook."

Nick looked over at him.  "Wait until you see all the reports I put in your In basket.  I talked to a ton of relatives on the Moorehead case.  A couple of them had really good information, too, like the grandfather worked for a shipping yard in Boston."

"Oh," Starsky said, subdued.  "I'll take a look at them tomorrow."

The commercial was over, and Kirk and Spock were standing in front of a large machine that was shaped like a donut.

"Fuck," Nick said, "this was just on a little while ago.  Why are they showing this again already?"

"Maybe because we saw it before on another channel," Starsky offered.

Hutch furrowed his brow, thinking back.  "Is this the one where they go back in time, to 1930s Earth?"

Nick glanced at him.  "Yeah.  That donut thing is a time machine.  The Guardian.  They have to go back in time to stop McCoy from saving the woman Kirk falls in love with."

Starsky met Hutch's eye, just as Hutch asked, "This is the one where they talk about eddies of time coming together?"

"Yeah.  I mean, they have to have some kind of explanation for how Kirk and Spock just happened to be at the same place and time that McCoy is, of all the places on Earth, and all the planets in the universe and all that.  Pretty unbelievable otherwise, to jump through the donut thing at a different time than McCoy, but still end up where he's at."

Starsky held Hutch's gaze.  "Yeah.  Pretty unbelievable."

Hutch raised his eyes to the ceiling, wondering about the sky and heavens beyond.  Dobey, my man, are you behind all this? 

They would never know.

Two weeks later, on a Thursday, Starsky and Hutch were in their office, the radio turned to the races at Del Mar.  Mandy sat nearby, as she had taken a late lunch hour from her job.

Starsky rubbed his hands together.  "Man, I hope he wins.  That would be the coolest thing." 

Hutch cautioned, "The favorite, Downtown Kid, sure looks tough.  He's been second twice."

"It is now post time," the announcer said.

Mandy asked, "Did Mike sound very optimistic?"

Starsky replied, "He never seems optimistic about Danny.  But Danny will show them."

"Ten horses," Mandy said.  "Half of them are first time starters, so it's hard to know how they'll do."

"At least 5-1 on Danny shows that he's got some respect," Hutch said.

"We've got two still left to load for our second race here at Del Mar, a two-year-old maiden claimer going five and half furlongs."

"If I remember right," Mandy said, "that would put him as the fourth choice on the morning line."

"It's a bummer not to know what the odds are right now," Starsky muttered.

"And Tail of the Rhino goes in.  All in line."

They waited.

"Black Catz is acting up a bit."

"Come on, let 'em go," Starsky muttered, squirming in his chair.

"Awaiting the start."

They heard a bell ringing in the background.  "And they're off and running.  All got away well, and Downtown Kid grabs the lead, with Red Rune just a half length back, Black Catz is rank in third, then Paint Splatter, and Tail of the Rhino inside of him.  Domino Chip, then two back to Depth Charge...."

"Come on, Danny," Starsky pleaded.

"What does it mean that Black Catz horse is rank?" Mandy asked.

"He's fighting his rider," Hutch said.  "He probably wants to go faster, and the rider is holding him back."

"As they head for the turn, that's Downtown Kid still with a length over Red Rune and -- here's come Black Catz!  Black Catz goes on by Red Rune and is challenging Downtown Kid.  Red Rune is back to third, Tail of the Rhino is moving up the rail, then Paint Splatter, and Depth Charge is outside of him.  Then it's back to Domino Chip...."

"Come on, Danny!"  Starsky slapped his desk.

"Sounds like he's moving up," Hutch said hopefully.

"Downtown Kid and Black Catz are head and head as they go around the turn.  It's four lengths back the rest, as Tail of the Rhino takes over third from Red Rune, and Depth Charge is making a run from the outside.  Force of Nature has now moved up into sixth, and the others well back."

"Come on, Danny, you can do it," Hutch said.

Starsky slapped his desk again, "Come on, Depth Charge!  Drop a depth charge on those other horses."

Mandy laughed softly

The crowd roared.  "They're in the stretch and it's a two-horse race. Downtown Kid and Black Catz are stride for stride, head and head, and they're going to battle to the wire.  It's six lengths back to Tail of the Rhino, then Depth Charge and Red Rune has nothing left.  Downtown Kid has a head in front, but Black Catz is fighting back!  They're stride for stride, nose and nose, and here's the wire... looks like Black Catz might have gotten there first, by a nose.  Then Downtown Kid, and it might have been ten lengths back to Depth Charge, who was a half length in front of Tail of the Rhino.  Then Force of Nature."

Hutch let out a long breath.  "At least, he was third.  That's another paycheck.  Just wish he wouldn't have been so far back."

Mandy noted, "Sounds like being rank is a good thing.  Like Black Catz really wanted to run.  Wasn't he the one that acted up in the gate?"

"Yeah," Hutch muttered, not wanting to think about Danny's lack of competitive spirit.

Starsky rubbed at his chin.  "Wonder if we should talk to Mike about trying that girl jockey."

Hutch reminded, "He gets mad when we try to tell him what to do.  Can't blame him.  He's the boss when it comes to what's best for Danny."

"Girl jockey?" Mandy asked.

Starsky gave a brief description of when they had met Nadine Harrison.  Then he said, "If Mike was complaining about how girl riders can't urge horses forward... well, doesn't sound like Knowles was able to get Danny to gain any ground at all.  I mean, he was farther back at the finish than he was earlier in the race, even though he got up for third."

"Because the other horses were even slower, or more tired than him," Hutch said with a sigh.

Mandy gathered her purse.  "I've got to get back to work  Cheer up, guys.  Danny has two thirds in three starts.  That's really not so terrible, is it?"

When Starsky didn't answer, Hutch felt compelled to point out, "While racing against the lowest class of horses on the circuit."

She stood, placing her purse strap over her shoulder.  "Still, better than fourth or worse, right?  And when horses like Black Catz win, then they can't be in a maiden race anymore, so seems like, eventually, it's got to be Danny's turn, because the better maidens would have already won and can't be in maiden races anymore."

Starsky nodded.  "Good point.  Just a matter of wondering how long it'll be before it's his turn.  I mean, Danny could be racing against that Downtown horse next time.  Doesn't seem likely he'll beat him."

She turned to the door.  "Then maybe the time after that," she said with a smile.  "See you."

"So long, kiddo."

"Bye," Hutch said with a wave.

Starsky looked at Hutch with a longing smile.  "Man, Darla was sure something, wasn't she?"

"Yeah," Hutch said, wondering if they'd fully appreciated what a special horse she had been, since they'd had nothing else to compare her with.  He slapped Starsky's leg.  "Danny will win.  And if he's earning checks in the meantime, I'm not going to complain."

Lois stood in the doorway.  "How did he do?"

"Third," they said in unison.

She nodded toward Hutch's phone.  "Your sister called a moment ago, but the connection was bad, so I'm expecting her to call back.  I'll put her right through.  She sounded upset." She turned away.

Hutch rolled his chair toward his desk, his stomach tightening.  "Wonder what's going on."

Starsky's mouth had fallen open.  "Lanette isn't one to show much outward emotion.  Surely, it's not just a squabble with Nick."

Nick was still living with them, but he had seemed confident that, any day, Lanette would want him to move back home.

Hutch tried to focus on work the next few minutes, but couldn't.  Then his phone rang, and Starsky came toward his desk.

"Hello?" Hutch greeted.

Lanette's shaky voice said, "It's Lannie.  I'm at Rose Memorial Hospital.  Nick has been in a car accident.  It's serious."  Her voice broke.

Hutch said to Starsky, "Nick has been in a serious car accident."  He stood and said into the phone, "We're on our way."

Starsky was already at the door, his expression bleak.

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