Starsky rolled up his Racing Form and batted it repeatedly against his leg as the field of nine horses pounded out of the turn and approached the grandstand. "Come on, Little Sister!" he cried. "Come on, come on, come on!" Looking at the field head-on from the ground floor of the grandstand, he could barely see his and Hutch's selection, but it appeared that the brown horse -- filly, Hutch had corrected him, for it was a female -- with the jockey wearing the purple silks, was making a big move on the outside.

"She's catching up, Hutch," Starsky chattered to his partner, then returned to slapping his leg and calling encouragements.

Hutch didn't reply, and lowered his binoculars as the field approached.

The hoof beats grew louder as the horses passed them, sharp whips slapping against sturdy hides. Starsky could see that Little Sister looked to be fourth, only a half length separating her and the horse in front of her. "Yeah, baby, gogogo! She's doin' it, Hutch." He turned again and batted the blond in the ribs with the Form. "She's doin' it! She's doin' it!"

"I don't know, Starsk," Hutch finally commented, eyes following the field as it continued up the stretch, now only hindquarters in view. A roar went up from the crowd as the horses approached the finish line. Both he and Starsky listened as the announcer called the result.

Little Sister was third.

"Damn!" Starsky swore. "She was so close!" They'd put ten dollars on her to win and ten dollars on her to place, so even if she'd been second they would have collected something.

An overweight man with a cigar, standing a few feet away, glanced over at the duo. "You bet Little Sister, too?" he asked sourly.

Both detectives nodded.

"Fuckin' bitch," the man commented. "She should have beaten this field. She was probably horsing. That fucking Robertson shoulda smacked her a few more times to get her mind on running."

Starsky quickly turned away, not wanting to hear about this particular sport's less pleasant aspects. He headed toward the grandstand, unfolding the Form.

Hutch was counting his money as they walked. "Starsk, we're down to twelve bucks. One more, then we better split."

"Yeah," Starsky sighed regretfully. It had been a fun day, even though the only ticket they'd cashed was a $15.60 place payoff in the third race. This was such a rare weekend off that they'd celebrated by driving down to San Diego for a visit to Del Mar Race Track. They had a long trip back, but at least they could pay for gas and food with plastic.

Starsky began studying the past performances for the next race, but after a moment, he found that his mind wasn't registering the data before him. The fat man's comment still rankled. And he was puzzled by something the man had said....

"Hutch." He lowered the Form as both detectives found an empty bench inside the grandstand, gratefully giving their legs a rest.

"Hm?" The blond was toying with the strap on his binoculars.

"What did that man mean? He said Little Sister was... 'horsing'?" Starsky had no doubt that Hutch would know the answer. For, within minutes after their arrival, the blond had proved to be as much a know-it-all about horse racing as he claimed to be about nearly everything else. Turned out that his old high school buddy, Jack Mitchell, had had an uncle who owned race horses, and sometimes Hutch would go with Jack to Canada to watch them run at a track called Woodbine.

Hutch considered the question, then chuckled softly. "It's just an expression. It meant she was in heat."

Starsky blinked. "Oh."

The shorter detective felt his partner's eyes on him, and a moment later a hand rested on his shoulder. The blond was amused. "It's nothing to be embarrassed about, goofball. Horses are products of mother nature, too."

He wasn't embarrassed, Starsky defended silently. But the subject of... well, lady things... had always made him a bit bashful. He thought of the man's statement again, and his tone changed to annoyance. "Well, gee, if she was like... well," his voice softened to a delicate whisper, "you know, like... like on her period... I mean, well...."

Hutch chuckled again, still soft, and his hand squeezed affectionately.

"I mean..." Starsky was determined to speak his mind, "...doesn't it seem kinda cruel to... you know, expect her to run when she's in that condition?" Hutch was fighting to keep a straight face, and Starsky spoke louder as frustration settled in. "I mean, do you think lady horses get cramps?"

Hutch shrugged. "I wouldn't know. But I do know that being in heat would keep her mind off running." He shrugged again. "But that man wouldn't have known that... any more than the rest of us. Not unless he's a real horseman."

Starsky didn't want to think about how a 'real horseman' would know if a filly were in heat or not. He went back to his Form with renewed concentration.

After a few moments, Hutch looked over Starsky's shoulder. "See anything that looks promising?"

"Not sure," Starsky replied. He couldn't help but notice that now he was being expected to pick their next failure. For the first few races, they had argued extensively over who to bet. It was always "my horse" or "your horse", but once the bet was placed, the selection became "our horse". Betting separately would have taken the fun out of it. Now, Hutch seemed to have had enough excitement for one day, for the past two races he'd only commented upon the pros and cons of Starsky's choices, instead of crucifying them.

Starsky held the Form in one hand and pointed with the other as he leaned back toward his partner. "What do you think of this one, Half Moon?"

Hutch bent over the smaller man's shoulder, squinting to read the tiny print. "He seems like an obvious choice. He'll be a big favorite, so even if he wins, we won't collect hardly anything."

"The way I see it," Starsky noted, "collecting anything at this point is better than nothing." Granted, they'd both been big on the idea of cashing in on longshots. But the day's failures had been humbling.

"Yeah," Hutch agreed off-handedly, for now he was leaning further forward, studying the other horses. After a moment, he noted, "Blind Spot has some possibilities. He hasn't raced in four months, but if you look further down, you can see that he's won before off a layoff." Hutch took his program out of his pocket and studied it. Then he grunted. "He's listed as the second choice on the morning line, so there won't be much value in him, either."

Starsky was about to repeat his previous statement, when he suddenly felt his partner brighten. "You know what, Starsk?"

The curly-haired man was immediately suspicious of the enthusiastic tone. "What?"

"Let's go for some big bucks. Let's try a trifecta."

Starsky turned so he could actually look his off-the-wall partner in the face. "A what?"

"A trifecta. You pick the first three finishers in exact order. Sometimes it pays thousands. At the very least, hundreds."

Starsky's voice was high-pitched with disbelief. "Hutch, we can't even pick a winner. We can hardly even pick a horse to be second! How in the world do we have any chance of picking horses to be first, second, and third?"

"We pick three horses and box them," Hutch explained patiently.

"Whaddya mean, box them? How much will that cost?"

"Boxing three horses is twelve bucks. And it won't matter what order they come in as long as they're the first three horses to cross the finish line; by boxing them, we'll be covering all three in the first, second, and third positions. What do you say?"

Starsky sighed. It sounded so adventuresome. And, truth be told, the idea of cashing a $4.00 or $5.00 ticket at this point held no appeal. If Hutch's plan worked, they could be rich.... "Okay."

Hutch patted his shoulder. "That's my buddy."

"Now we gotta pick three horses."

"Let's keep the first two, Half Moon and Blind Spot. Now we need to pick a real longshot, so if we do win, the payoff will be good."

It was good, seeing his normally reticent blond excited about something. It kept Starsky from pointing out that it didn't matter how big the payoff was if their three horses didn't come in. "You wanna pick the third horse or do you want me to pick?"

Hutch shrugged. "It doesn't matter, as long as the odds are at least... say, ten to one." He studied his program. "From this, it looks like four of them are expected to be ten to one or more."

Starsky was about to ask what the horses' names were, when he saw Hutch look up and his eyes suddenly grow wide. The blond's head tilted to one side, and he whispered, "Doris?"

For a moment, Starsky felt annoyed that Hutch would be distracted by thoughts of an old girlfriend when this weekend was supposed to be for them. But when he made the reluctant effort to follow Hutch's gaze, he saw himself looking at a thin, auburn-haired older woman with dark sunglasses who stood alone in the grandstand, off to one side, clutching her program with nervous fingers. And she seemed vaguely familiar.

"Who?" Starsky asked, trying to remember.

"Starsky, that's Doris Huntley." And the blond was on his feet, approaching the woman.

The smaller man watched, trying to fight off a sense of impending doom. Doris Huntley. Of all the people to meet a hundred miles from home. It wasn't that he had anything against the lady. It was just that Hutch had such idolatry for the Huntleys, even if the male half of the marriage was currently serving time in prison, and the female half had gambled away $50,000 of their life savings. Hutch downright had a blind spot where his mentor's family was concerned.

And what the hell was she doing here? There could only be one answer, considering her past. Starsky watched more closely as she continued to fret with her program. She was hardly someone attending the races just for a day of fun and excitement.

But Hutch, of course, wasn't considering any of that. He breezed up to Doris with a blazing smile; when she turned at his voice, they both threw their arms around each other, laughing and hugging.

Starsky tried to feel good-natured about the scene. If nothing else, he did owe the Huntleys for one very important thing. Luke had been a guest speaker one day at one of Hutch's law classes at the University of Minnesota. Hutch had liked Huntley so much that he talked to him after class, and that blond head had been filled with dreams of being a cop. Later, when Hutch left Minnesota, he moved to L.A. and looked up the Huntleys. And fulfilled his ambition to be a cop, all with Huntley's enthusiastic approval. And his love.

Starsky sighed.

Once, when he'd gone back to Duluth with Hutch to visit the Hutchinson family, Starsky had come face-to-face with the cold environment in which his partner had been raised. After that, it had puzzled him that Hutch was such a warm, affectionate person after having suffered such an upbringing. But being introduced to Luke Huntley had solved the mystery. The man was a walking storm of physical contact. If he liked you, he had his hands all over you. And he had loved Hutch. So the two men's greetings and partings were filled with full-body hugs, arm-squeezing, back-slapping, and arms-about-shoulders. And in between those greetings and partings were moments of playful wrestling and a non-stop stream of little touches.

Hutch, of course, had just eaten it up. Starsky could imagine how so much demonstrative love would be craved by someone who had received so little of it. And Luke must have satisfied that craving for a number of years. All to Starsky's benefit. For, once he and Hutch were paired together, theirs had been a merging with very little pain and few errors. Hutch had never hesitated to show -- and tell -- the partner he loved how much he loved him.

Starsky closed his eyes and drew a deep breath, feeling himself smile. He would always owe Luke Huntley for that.

His eyes opened just in time to see Hutch steer Doris in his direction. Starsky stood, pasting on an enthusiastic smile. "Well, well, well," he greeted, holding out his hand, "what do we have here?"

"Starsky, you remember Doris," Hutch introduced, his smile soft beneath the mustache.

"Of course, I remember," Starsky shook her hand, still not liking the tense expression behind the sunglasses. "What brings you all the way down here?"

"Apparently, the same thing as you two." Her shrug was exaggerated, as was her brief laugh. "I was just looking for a little fun and relaxation." She sighed heavily. "It feels good to get away from the city."

Hutch was holding her arm, and bent closer to her. "Hey, would you like a refreshment or something? Maybe a coke?"

"Oh, no." She quickly shook her head. "I'm fine. Thank you." She looked at her program. "I was just trying to pick my selection for the next race." She glanced from one to the other. "Have you two had any luck today?"

"Not much," Hutch laughed. "In fact, we're down to our last few dollars and thought we'd just throw it all into a trifecta. Go for the big bucks, you know?"

She nodded, but asked, "Who are you playing?"

Starsky was uncomfortable with the directness of her question. But he was hardly in a position to play judge and jury with her life.

"We're trying to find a longshot to play with the two favorites," Hutch replied. "Do you have a suggestion?"

She tapped her program. "I was thinking about Teacup."

Starsky quickly held up his Form, holding it wide so Hutch could look at it, too. The blond spoke first. "Hm. Looks like his best races have been on a muddy track."

"But he's ridden by Doug Peterson," Doris pointed out. "He's already won two races today. Having him for a rider ought to move the horse up."

Starsky blinked. Doris sounded like a horse racing pro. But, he was glad to realize, Hutch wasn't automatically taking her selection. The blond continued to consider the data of the other horses.

Starsky closed his eyes, feeling the strain from having studied the small print throughout the day. When he opened them, his gaze fell on the larger print of a name. "Hutch," he called excitedly, trying to gesture with a glance while using both hands to keep the paper open. "Hutch, look at that, the horse named Partner for Life. Whaddya think?" He felt the blond lean closer and prompted, "Well?"

Thoughtfully, Hutch noted, "He's listed at 12-1." Now a shrug. "Doesn't look too hopeless." He pointed with a finger. "Except for the bad race he had last time on a wet track, he's had excuses for most of his races. Looks like he gets into traffic a lot."

"But he has a chance," Starsky encouraged. "'And he's breakin' from the outside post, so he should be able to stay clear of the others. 'Sides, how can we pass up a horse with a name like that?" He looked over his shoulder at his partner and found the other looking at him. Their eyes met, and Starsky thought his insides might turn into goo.

Hutch presented a soft smile, then nodded firmly. "Okay."

Starsky snapped his fingers. "All right." He looked toward the lines starting to grow at the mutuel windows. "Hutch, you better get the ticket, 'cause I'm not sure how to do a trifecta box."

He received a nod, then both men turned to Doris, who had remained quiet throughout the discussion, and who was studying her program intently, gnawing at her lip.

"You still stickin' with Teacup?" Starsky asked, grateful as hell that Hutch hadn't allowed her to become involved in their selection.

She looked up, then drew a deep breath. "I think so."

"Two minutes," the announcer called over the loud speaker, "until post time. Don't be shut out."

Hutch took a step toward the mutuel lines, then looked at Doris. "I'll get your ticket," he offered.

"Oh, no," she quickly shook her head. "Thank you. But I'd rather get my own." She smiled. "It's a superstition I have."

Hutch tilted his head. "Oh." Then he glanced at his partner. "Be back in a second."

Both watched Hutch take his place in line, then Doris regarded Starsky uneasily. "Guess I better get in line, too."

"Guess you better." He watched as she went clear around the lines where Hutch was and moved instead to a window further down the mezzanine, which had a much shorter line. After glancing at the heading over the window, Starsky understood why. It read, "$100 Window".

Starsky put his hands in his pockets and turned toward the track, watching the line of ten horses as they approached the starting gate in front of the grandstand. When Doris joined him a moment later, he said, "That was fast."

She laughed uneasily. "I sometimes get lucky like that."

Starsky turned to look at her. "You come to the track often?"

"Oh," she shrugged with exaggeration, "every now and then. It's good to get away from the same routine sometimes."

Starsky's gaze never wavered. "You ever win much?"

She frowned, returning his gaze through her sunglasses. Then she was laughing again. "You win some, you lose some."

"I bet the loses are pretty hard to take, when they happen at a hundred dollars a crack."

She quickly became interested in her program, and when Hutch came up behind them, they parted for him.

The blond held out the ticket. "You can look and touch, but you can't hold it."

Starsky did the first two. "So, how much do we stand to win if our horses come in?"

"It all depends on how they finish," Hutch explained patiently. "If Half Moon, the favorite, wins, and Blind Spot is second and the longshot third, that would be the smallest payoff." He shrugged. "My guess would be anywhere from three to six hundred dollars. It goes up from there." He grinned mischievously. "If Partner for Life comes in first... well, I'd tend to think it would have to pay at least a thousand."

Starsky whistled.

Hutch squinted at the tote board. "At least," he emphasized. "Partner for Life is up to eighteen to one." He quickly looked at Doris. "If our three can't do it, I hope Teacup wins for you."

"Thanks," she replied. "But with so much at stake, I think I'm rooting for you two."

Hutch chuckled but Starsky stifled a sigh. He knew she didn't mean it for he suspected that she needed to win, and win bad.

"If we win, we'll take you for a nice dinner," Hutch said.

"If I win," Doris replied, "I'll do the same for the two of you."

"Now that's a deal," Hutch said good-naturedly.

The horses were loading into the starting gate.

"Hutch," Starsky pulled at the blond's sleeve, "let's watch this inside, on the television, so we can see better." During the day, he'd wanted to be close to the track for all the races, for he enjoyed the sound of the thundering hooves as the horses passed. But now he was more intrigued by the idea of winning half a grand or so, and he wanted a full view as it happened.

Hutch looked at Doris, and she nodded. They quickly moved inside the grandstand to join the crowd gathered around the nearest tv monitor.

Just then, the gate sprung open, and inside the grandstand a bell sounded, locking the mutuel windows.

"They're Off!" the announcer called.

Starsky bounced on his toes as he watched the monitor, adrenalin rushing through him, though he wasn't sure what he was supposed to be seeing. He snapped his fingers quickly, demanding, "What are our numbers, Hutch?"

"Three, six, and eight. We're second, sixth, and seventh."

Starsky had no idea how Hutch could make such clear sense out of the chaos of the tightly bunched field on the screen, but he had no doubt the blond was correct. The horses were entering the first turn, and he tried to listen to the announcer above the shouts of the crowd. Doris' horse, Teacup, was way back.

When the horses turned down the back stretch, Starsky lost track of where their selections were. "Are any of them movin' up, Hutch?"

"That's Half Moon in second, " the blond explained. "Partner for Life has moved into fifth." Hutch pointed. "And that's Blind Spot making a big move from the back of the pack. See him in the yellow colors?"

Starsky's fists curled as he watched the big bay pass other horses as if they were standing still. "Oh, Jesus, Hutch. Oh, Jesus. But they've still got to catch the leader."

"There's plenty of time," Hutch noted calmly.

Just as Hutch finished speaking the announcer said, "And Teacup is moving into contention."

Through the corner of his eye, Starsky saw Doris grip her program and close her eyes a moment, as though in prayer.

The horses were rounding the far turn, and the crowd gathered around the monitor became more vocal, encouraging various selections.

Half Moon had just taken the lead. Starsky shook his fist and jumped up and down once. He wasn't sure which was which, but their other two horses were just behind Half Moon, as was Teacup. "Oh, Jesus. Oh, Jesus."

The blond suddenly drew in a breath as the field entered the home stretch. In a soft whisper, he said, "Man, Starsk, we're going to be close."

It then occurred to the smaller detective that his partner had never believed for a second that they could win.

Four horses moved as a team ahead of the rest of the pack in mid-stretch. Partner for Life was on the inside, then Blind Spot, Half Moon and Teacup.

Doris suddenly came to life. "Come on, Teacup! Come on! Come on!"

Partner for Life started to pull ahead, and Teacup began to drop back. Blind Spot and Half Moon also separated, while still maintaining their positions in second and third.

"Oh, my God," Hutch whispered in disbelief as the wire approached.

Starsky could contain himself no longer. He leapt into the air just as the field hit the finish line, letting out a shout that caused everyone else to look at him. When he landed, he bounced right up again, this time into his partner's arms, squeezing the other tightly. "We won! We won! Jesus, Hutch, we're rich!"

Hutch was laughing, even as he tried to keep himself from being bowled over by his partner's momentum. He set Starsky on his feet and reminded, "We're hardly rich. But that was the longest shot of the three who won, so the payoff ought to be a damn good one." Then he turned to Doris, who was gnawing at her lip with her teeth. "Sorry, Doris. Your horse was so close."

"Oh," she said shakily, "I'm happy for the two of you. What an exciting race."

"Remember, we're taking you to dinner."

Starsky tugged at Hutch's wrist. "Come on, let's see Partner for Life in the winner's circle."

Hutch chuckled as he allowed himself to be pulled toward the opening of the grandstand that led outside. He glanced over his shoulder. "You coming, Doris?"

She forced a smile. "Sure."

Starsky was still chattering with excitement as they made their way toward the winner's circle. Hutch said, "I don't believe it. The horses finished in reverse order of their odds. We're getting the best possible payoff for our box."

"Yeah," Starsky agreed. "Lady Luck is sure shining on us today."

The horses that had just run were being unsaddled before the stands, their sides heaving and nostrils flared. All except Partner for Life, who was being led into the winner's circle. He was a big, strapping, dark bay.

"Isn't he beautiful, Hutch?" Starsky beamed as they watched him get his picture taken, the people who cared for him at his bridle. "Isn't he the most beautiful horse in the whole wide world?"

"Yeah," Hutch agreed with genuine admiration.

Suddenly, a murmur went up from the crowd, and when the detectives glanced at the tote board, the red "Objection" sign was blinking. Also blinking were the numbers of the horses that had finished third and fourth.

Starsky's heart contracted, and he looked at Hutch with wide eyes. "Interference?" he whispered in disbelief.

Hutch shook his head once, visibly deflated. "We'll just have to wait and see what the stewards decide." The blond looked at Doris, who was clutching her program tighter than ever, a ticket between it and her fingers. "Did you have Teacup to show?" he asked curiously.

She nodded, then laughed nervously. "I'd hate to spoil your trifecta. They probably won't allow the foul. They usually don't."

The blond noted, "At least, whatever happens, one of us stands to win." He looked at the tote board. "With Teacup being twelve to one, and Partner for Life winning, that would be a decent show payoff."

As Starsky listened, he wondered how much Hutch was thinking that Doris had bet. He was certain the blond had no clue it was at least a hundred bucks.

And, damn it, he didn't want Doris to win. This was for them.

The three milled silently about the now-empty winner's circle, for Partner for Life had been led away.

"That's not a good sign," Hutch muttered to Starsky, "when it takes the stewards this long to decide. The longer it takes, the more likely it is that they're going to disqualify the horse."

Starsky drew a deep breath. "Hutch, I don't know if I could stand it, if we lose after we thought we'd won."

The blond squeezed his partner's shoulder. "We'll live. Besides," he smiled at their guest, "it'll mean dinner is on Doris."

"That's right," she nodded.

A roar went up from the crowd, and all three looked at the tote board as the "objection" sign was turned off and the numbers of the horses stopped blinking.

Hutch reacted first, shooting a fist into the air. "Whew!"

"How much did we win?" Starsky demanded excitedly. His eyes were darting about the tote board, but he found the myriad of numbers confusing.

"They're posting the payoffs now." Hutch's eyes were glued to the board, and he reached to put his arm around Doris' waist.

"Oh, boy," the blond gasped a moment later.

"Wow," Doris said.

"How much, Hutch?"

Hutch cupped a hand around his mouth and bent down to Starsky's ear. Distinctly, he said, "Three... thousand... nine... hundred... forty... seven... dollars... and... eighty... two... cents."

Starsky jerked his head back to look at him. "Really?"

The blond's grin broadened. "Really."

Starsky leapt at him, forcing Hutch to let go of Doris. "WHEW!" He embraced Hutch tightly, arms around the slim waist, pressing himself against the other.

Hutch slapped Starsky repeatedly on the back.

"Ah, man, Hutch," Starsky said as he pulled back, "this is really something. What a great day."

"Yeah, sure beats Vegas."

"That's for damn sure." They'd won thousand upon thousands more than this when in Las Vegas to investigate the strangler murders, but that had been with the Department's money, and it had been won in a very impersonal manner.

Hutch patted Starsky on the head. "That was quite a hunch you had there, partner."

The curly-haired man beamed. "You mean Partner for Life?"

"Yeah."

"Like I said, how could we not bet him?"

Hutch chuckled softly and turned toward the grandstand. "I guess we'd better cash our ticket and take our loot to dinner." With an arm loosely around Starsky's waist, he reached back and took Doris' hand.

"Hey, I'm starved, " she said. "Dinner sounds like a good idea to me."

They were silent until they were inside. "I'll cash it," Hutch said, then winked at Doris. "In this partnership, I like to handle the money."

Starsky had no intention of making a retort as he watched Hutch go to the payoff window. He felt uncomfortable standing next to Doris, disapproving of what she was, yet sorry that she was probably strapped for cash and not knowing how to bring it up. He decided on a more amiable topic. "Hutch and I don't get down this way very often. Know of any good restaurants?"

"Uh," she stroked a trembling finger along her lower lip, "there's the By the Bay, if you like seafood. But it's a bit expensive. Of course," she shrugged, "sounds like Hutch has his heart set on an expensive meal."

A thought struck Starsky just then, and he reached to briefly squeeze Doris' arm. "Wait right here." He briskly headed for the window, where Hutch was now standing alone and stuffing an assortment of bills into his wallet.

"Thank you," the blond grinned widely at the clerk.

"Hutch," Starsky whispered anxiously, beckoning his partner to one side.

"Huh?" Hutch was still smiling, and Starsky had to pause a moment to appreciate it.

"What is it?" the taller man prompted with a hint of impatience.

Starsky shook himself. "Uh, look, when we go to dinner, let me pay for it with my credit card, okay?"

"What?" Hutch asked in disbelief. "Starsky, we just won thirty-nine hundred dollars."

"I know." Starsky looked sheepish, uncertain how to explain. "But I don't want to spend it -- any of it -- on something like dinner." The blond was about to protest again, and Starsky quickly added, "We'll discuss it later, okay? Just let me pay for dinner."

Hutch nodded with shrug.

Starsky patted his arm. "Thanks, pal."

They went to retrieve Doris.

* * *

Starsky sat back, patting his stomach. "I'm stuffed."

"That goes for me, too," Hutch said.

"This was a lovely dinner, gentlemen," Doris put in.

The waiter brought the check and placed it at the center of the table. Starsky quickly snatched it up and pulled out his billfold. When he placed his credit card on top of it, he noticed Doris regarding him curiously. The waiter took the card away.

Dinner was more enjoyable than Starsky had anticipated. Most of the conversation had centered around Luke Huntley and how he was doing in prison. He was in a minimum security facility, and Doris was confident that he would be released in four months, when his first parole review was scheduled. Hutch and Doris exchanged stories about Luke from back when Hutch was young, and Starsky listened with interest, though he still was puzzled as to how Hutch seemed to be so thoroughly blind to the man's faults. It was like it never occurred to Hutch that most people go to prison because they've done something genuinely wrong.

Of course, it was always easy to play judge and jury with someone else's life. Starsky was fully aware that if it were ever found out that he and Hutch had given Reuben's fifty grand to Doris, they could very well end up behind bars themselves. But there was no chance of that happening, for Reuben left the state as soon as his lawyer cleared him of all charges.

It was the kind of situation where the only innocent person who seemed to win was Doris, but Starsky knew that wasn't really true. He wondered how much, if any, of the fifty grand she had left. Wondered what her husband would do when he got out and found the truth.

Doris dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. "So, are you both heading back to the track tomorrow?"

"Oh, no," Hutch said. "We were going to drive back tonight. I can't imagine we'd have the same kind of luck two days in a row." He paused. "Did you drive down by yourself?"

"Yes," she replied. "I'm staying with my sister, Gwen."

"Oh," Hutch's faced brightened, "I forgot she lived in this area. We should have invited her to dinner, too."

Doris waved a hand. "She works nights. She wouldn't have been able to join us."

"When are you headed back?"

"I was planning to spend the weekend here."

"That's nice. I was going to say if you wanted to go back to L.A. tonight, Starsky and I could follow you to make sure you arrive home okay."

"No," she quickly shook her head. "That's okay. Thank you for offering. But I'm going to stay with Gwen another day."

The waiter returned with the charge slip, and Starsky signed it. He waited to be given his receipt, and then pocketed his card while the three of them stood.

"Thank you both," Doris said. "That was a fine dinner."

"Made all the better by your company," Hutch noted gently.

They wound their way around various dining areas until reaching the front lobby. Doris patted the side of her sweater. "Oh, no, I left my purse. How silly of me."

"No problem," Hutch said quickly, "I'll get it." He turned to retrace their steps.

Starsky put his hands behind his back and turned to Doris to make a comment about what a boy scout Hutch was, but his intentions vanished when he found the woman regarding him intently.

"David," she said hesitantly, and Starsky knew right then that she had left her purse on purpose. "I -- I -- "

"What?" Starsky prompted.

She drew a deep breath. "Look. Do you have any cash?" Her voice trembled. "I'm all tapped out."

The detective wasn't surprised. "So you can bet the ponies again tomorrow?" he wondered.

Her mouth hardened and she looked away. "Never mind."

"Doris," Starsky drew a breath himself, "I believe I have a dollar and twenty-two cents in my pocket, all in change. All the money I came here with was spent at the track today."

She regarded him with puzzlement. "But the money you won...."

"Is all in Hutch's wallet," Starsky said gently. Then his voice hardened into a challenging tone. "You're going to have to ask him for it."

Her eyes quickly lowered. "You know I can't do that."

"Doris," Starsky gentled his tone again, "no one can help you if you won't help yourself. You're an addict. Gambling is no less serious a disease than alcoholism, heroin addiction, and dozens of other vices. Until you face that fact, all the money in the world isn't going to solve your problem."

She bit her lip harder and looked away. "You wouldn't understand."

"Okay," Starsky whispered, "I don't understand. But what I do understand is that you have a husband who loves you very much, and that Hutch loves both you and your husband very much. And because he cares, I care. But there's one big difference between how he feels and how I feel: I'm not blinded by love, like he is. He doesn't want to believe the evidence before him. Like your husband, he wouldn't consider for an instant that you would gamble that fifty grand away again, like you did the first time." His voice hardened slightly. "But that's what you've done, isn't it?"

Her mouth fell open, as though she wanted to say something, but didn't know how to.

Hutch appeared, holding out her purse. "No wonder you forgot it, it was clear under the table."

"Oh," she laughed, "it must have grown legs on its own." She took it from him. "Thank you."

They moved to the door. "Can we drop you off at Gwen's?" Hutch asked.

"That would be fine," Doris agreed. "She can take me back to the track to pick up my car tomorrow."

"Just give me directions," Hutch said as he held open the door, "and we'll have you at your sister's doorstep in no time."

* * *

Starsky watched from the Torino as Hutch kissed Doris on the cheek just before she disappeared inside her sister's house. He wondered if Gwen knew of Doris' addiction, wondered if perhaps Doris was siphoning money off her under the pretense of using it for something else. Wondered how Luke was going to take it when he found out that all the time he'd served in prison was going to be for naught -- for he and Doris would be back right where they'd started when this whole thing began: missing the entire life savings they had set aside for retirement.

He wondered if Luke might leave her then.

Starsky remembered, so clearly, the night eight months ago when Luke had appeared at their precinct, for the older detective had been summoned by Captain Dobey for the special assignment of guarding the star witness for Reuben's trial. After spotting each other in the hall at the station, Luke and Hutch had done their all-over-each-other routine, then Hutch and Starsky had taken Luke to the Pits for a beer.

Starsky had already reached that conclusion for himself. Certainly, there had been a time when he'd had the fantasy of the wife and kids and PTA meetings, but he'd come to realize that he loved his job too much to allow it to take a backseat to domestic responsibilities. Being a cop was what he was, and he needed a certain freedom and flexibility in order to be a good one. It wouldn't be fair to a wife to ask her to wait at home for him... as Luke had expected Doris to do. So, Luke's statement that night was right in line with Starsky's more recent beliefs.

But Hutch was a whole different matter. For reasons that Starsky hadn't been able to figure out, Hutch had decided that Luke and Doris were a match meant for heaven. Even after all the pain of his own divorce, Hutch seemed to want to believe that the fantasy could work, that a good cop could also be a perfect husband.

"That's right, don't get me wrong," Luke amended, "I mean, I love her like my right hand, Ken, but... that's my shootin' finger." There was a long pause, then, "I mean, a cop's life... I mean, you guys know what I'm talkin' about, right? A cop's on the street more than he's in the bedroom, right?"

It had been a strange and interesting position for Starsky, sitting back and watching the interchange between Luke and his partner. Watching the way Luke tried to drum up commiseration from fellow cops for his marital situation, while Hutch just kept trying to force the conversation to fit a mold that was more comfortable for himself. Starsky wondered if his partner had even heard a word that Huntley had said.

Sometimes, Starsky thought now while sighing heavily, Hutch could be as dense as the Sherwood Forest.

"Hey, you sound beat," Hutch noted as he glanced in the passenger window.

Starsky wasn't able to hold back a yawn. "Yeah, it's been a long day." He grinned. "A nice day, but long."

Hutch opened the door and got in, turning toward his partner and resting an arm on the back of the driver's seat. "Maybe we shouldn't drive back tonight. What's the rush? Maybe we should just get a room for the night and take our time going back tomorrow."

Starsky always liked it when Hutch broke away from his mold of practicality and wanted to do something adventuresome. He grinned back and shrugged. "Okay by me."

Hutch pointed. "Let's go down the Boulevard until we find a motel." He paused and amended, "Or a hotel. It's not like we have to watch our budget."

Starsky frowned as he pulled away from the curb. "Let's pay for it with plastic again." He looked over to see the pale brows draw together.

"What is it with you?" the blond demanded. "You're not thinking about trying to frame that money and hanging it on your wall, are you?"

Starsky shrugged, wondering if he could put his feelings into words. "No. But I think... you know... that we should keep it set aside for something special."

Hutch was intrigued. "Like what?"

"I dunno. What difference does it make? Let's just put it away, like in a joint savings account, until something comes along where we need it."

The blond laughed. "Oh, Starsk, it's not like it's that much money. It wouldn't even qualify for a down payment on a house. Maybe we should just split it and leave it at that."

"No," Starsky said firmly, gaze switching between the windshield and his partner. "Come on, Hutch, that was our bet. It's our money. It was won by a horse with our name on it." He inwardly cringed at the realization that saying it out loud made it sound a little silly.

But Hutch looked thoughtful, one long finger rubbing against his mustache. "If you feel that strongly about it...." Then he shrugged and glanced at his partner. "I guess you never know when we might find ourselves out of work and needing something to tide us over."

Starsky felt relief make its way through his body. "Right. So when we get back, let's go to a bank and put it in a savings account with both our names on it."

Hutch shifted, leaning toward his partner and placing a hand on a denim-covered knee. "Starsk, let's not get ridiculous. Just put it all in your own account. I trust you not to spend it."

Frustration at being misunderstood flared again. "Hutch, you keep missin' the point. Come on, it's for us. It's not a matter of trusting each other with it. We just need a safe place to put it, and since it might as well be earnin' interest until we need it, we should put it in a bank."

Hutch squeezed the knee and settled back with a soft chuckle. "All right, buddy, whatever you say." Then he straightened. "There's a Motel 6 up there on the right."

Starsky grunted. "I'm up to something a little more decent than that."

"Yeah, okay. But since you charged dinner, I'll charge the room."

"Okay by me."

* * *

They settled for a Days Inn. By the time they were checked in, it was past nine o' clock, and Hutch pulled off his jeans with a grateful sigh. "I don't know about you, buddy, but that big dinner and a few drinks did me in. I think I'm going to hit the sack. If you turn on the tv, keep it down low, will ya?"

Starsky mumbled, "I don't think there's nothin' on but reruns." He picked up a magazine from off the table.

Hutch removed the rest of his clothes, except for his briefs, then slipped beneath the covers. He reached to turn off the lamp beside his bed, leaving the light beside Starsky's bed as the only illumination. The blond settled back against the pillow and looked over at his friend. "You know, Starsk, since we're planning to put the money away and not use it right away, maybe we should put it in a money market fund. It'll earn better interest."

"Maybe," Starsky agreed, studying the magazine. "I'll check it out when I go to the bank."

Hutch furrowed a brow, noting that Starsky hadn't said "we". It was like his partner was taking full charge of what he so heartfully believed was theirs. Like he was accepting all responsibility for keeping it safe and protected.

Now Hutch felt a surge of tender amusement. And a little bit of guilt that he'd argued about it. He still wasn't quite sure why it was so godawful important to his partner, but vowed from here on out to just accept that it was. He glanced at Starsky. "That was a hell of a hunch you had, buddy."

The curly-haired man looked up with a grin. "Yeah." Then he cocked his head to one side. "You've never won a bet that big before, have you? I mean, at the races?"

Hutch's eyes widened. "Good Lord, no. When Jack and I used to go, I just bet two bucks here or there, maybe ten if I had a lot of money or particularly liked a horse."

"So, you never won a trifecta before?"

"Oh, Starsk," Hutch laughed at his partner's naivety, "I've never even played a trifecta before. I always stuck with the basic win, place, and show."

Starsky stood, abandoning the magazine. "Really?"

"Yeah," Hutch nodded, uncomfortable with the way the other was so surprised.

Starsky approached the bed. With such sincere curiosity that it made the blond's heart twist, he asked, "Then what gave you the idea to play it today? On that particular race?"

"I dunno," Hutch shrugged. "It just seemed that if we were going to lose our shirts, we should lose them trying for some big money." He laughed gently. "I just thought it would add a little excitement to the day."

Starsky sat on the edge of the bed. "You didn't think we had a chance, did you?" he clarified.

"For goodness' sakes, of course not." Hutch restrained a chuckle. "Playing a trifecta is a crapshoot, Starsky. Like you said, it's hard enough picking one horse that's going to win. Professional gamblers don't even touch it."

Starsky stared at the carpet. "Wow. We really were lucky, weren't we?"

Hutch reached out and patted the nearest knee. "Yeah." Then he sighed. "I just feel bad that Doris couldn't win, too. I got the feeling she wanted to win more badly than she was letting on." Before Starsky could comment, Hutch added, "I could hardly blame her. That would have been a large show payoff if they'd moved Teacup up to third."

Starsky brought one bare foot up to rest on the bed, dislodging Hutch's hand, his chin perched on top of the knee, staring at the other bed.

Hutch waited a long time as silence settled around them. Finally, he prompted, "Hey, what are you so quiet about?"

Starsky glanced at him with a timid smile. "Just thinkin', that's all."

"About what?" the blond pursed gently.

"Just about what a weird day it's been. I mean, losing all those races, then hitting that big one with our last twelve bucks."

"Yeah," Hutch agreed. "And then meeting an old friend on top of it."

Quickly, Starsky said, "It was a great day all the way around, Hutch. I mean, even when we were losing all those times, it was still kinda fun. You know, we should get away from the city more and do things like this."

The blond felt the softness filter through him once again. There was something so endearing about Starsky when he got in a sentimental mood. "Yeah, sometimes it seems like life is trying to pass us right by."

Starsky turned toward him. "Yeah. We should make more of an effort to keep it from passing us by. Maybe we should start planning on taking little side trips one weekend a month, or somethin' like that."

Hutch patted the knee again. "Starsk, you know at least half the time all our plans would go to waste, considering the way we get called in when we're supposed to be off duty."

"Yeah, well, if we were out of the city, with no way to be reached, we couldn't be called in. We'd just have to train Dobey to get used to it."

Hutch chuckled at the idea of Dobey being 'trained', then squeezed the knee affectionately. "Look, pal, you draw up the plans, and I'll go along."

Starsky straightened, looking abashed. "Just like that? You don't wanna help in any of the planning?"

The blond wasn't sure if his partner was pleased or disappointed at the prospect. He shrugged. "This is your show, buddy." Then he grinned at his cleverness as he shifted to one side and snuggled more beneath the covers. "If we're 'partners for life', what choice do I have but to go along?"

CHAPTER 2