Starsky left the bathroom. Through the half-opened curtain, he saw Hutch standing near the jukebox.


Starsky started to whistle “Smoke On The Water” by Deep Purple. That song would beef up the atmosphere in the quiet Italian restaurant.


He was about to enter the room when he saw a man approach Hutch, and what he pushed against Hutch’s back looked like a gun.


Starsky stood rooted to the spot. “Freeze! Police!” he shouted, drawing his Baretta. From the corner of his eye, he saw a movement from a table in the corner. He heard a shot and fired back in that direction. A man slid down, clutching his shoulder.


Hutch was wrestling with the man behind him, trying to get his weapon.


Starsky cuffed the injured man, ignoring his whining, and hurried over to Hutch.


“That’s it!” Hutch held the man in a strong grip.


“You need any help here?” Starsky yanked the man away from Hutch and shoved him against the jukebox.


Locking glances, silent conversation passed between them. “If you were shot…”


Just then, the jukebox blared “Lucky Man.


“My new favorite song,” Starsky said seriously, giving Hutch a hug. Resolutely, he went over to arrest their prisoners.








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