Bust Amboy

episode transcript by Sarah Spearey

Sunny Glen Funeral Home: Day

(A hearse pulls up outside the funeral home. A driver opens the door for three women all dressed in black and head for the entrance. Hutch is watching from a bush)

Hutch: Now, those are definitely ladies in mourning. (Starsky comes up behind him and hands him a bunch of flowers.)

Starsky: Could’ve fooled me. (They watch the women enter)

Hutch: You ready? (Sets up a radio amongst the flowers.)

Starsky: Think we’re dressed okay?

Hutch: Who’s gonna care?

Starsky: I don’t know. Thought I might’ve worn a tie. (The make there way to the entrance) Flowers are very heavy. (Hutch talks into the flowers)

Hutch: We’re going into Stiff City. Just give us time to get past the management.

(Uniformed officers are standing by)

Officer: You got it, Hutch. (To the others) Get ready, guys.

Starsky: Yeah. The least you could do is smell them. Camouflage your actions. (Hutch smells the flowers and sneezes.) What’s the matter?

Hutch: It’s my allergy. (They reach the door and it opens)

Man: Yes? May I be of service in your hour of need? (They just walk in. Inside music is playing) You didn’t tell me the name of the beloved. Perhaps you’d prefer to speak to our grief therapist. (Hutch hands him the flowers) What’s the meaning of this?

Starsky: It’s called a warrant. (They go behind a curtain. On the other side is a room with people satting around watching the three girls dance on a stage.)

Hutch: Do it now. (Starsky blows his whistle)

Starsky: Police!

Mickey: Hutch.

Starsky: Guess who’s dead. (Women scream People start to run as the police enter.)

Hutch: You’re all under arrest for prostitution. (Throws the man down on a chair) Sit down, stay there. (A young woman runs past, Hutch grabs her.) Mickey.

Mickey: No, no, no fair.

Hutch: I’m disappointed in you. I thought you’d straighten out after that massage-parlour bust. (Throws her into the arms of an uniform officer)

Mickey: Hutch.

Hutch: Get her out of here.

Mickey: Hutch, you can’t bust us. You got no authority here. (Hutch grabs another name trying to run)

Hutch: Get him out of here.

Mickey: You are unconstitutional. (The officer takes the two away. Starsky goes over to an open casket with a male body in. A phone rings)

Man: You’ll regret this. Mr. Amboy will lean on you so hard, you’ll wish you’d never put on a badge. (Hutch answers it and puts it down.)

Hutch: I don’t think he’s gonna make it home tonight.

Man: I’m telling you, Mr. Amboy is not…

Hutch: Sit down. (Goes over to Starsky) Well, we got all of them?

Starsky: Looks like it. How’d you like to peruse an example of the fine art of embalming? Amazing what a little make-up can do.

Hutch: Yeah, it’s a pity they got him lying in a draft.

Starsky: Well, gee, we ought to cover him up. He might catch cold. (Closes the lid.)

Goose: Help! Help! I’m alive! (Lifts the lid) I’m alive. I’m not dead.

Starsky: You’re kidding? Really?

Goose: See? (Breaths.) I’m breathing.

Starsky: Come on, Goose, out you go. (Pulls Goose out of the coffin)

Goose: Okay, okay. You got nothing on me.

Starsky: Huh, how about air pollution?

Goose: When Mr. Amboy finds out you been leaning on the old Goose, he’s gonna get his legal brains out, and you’re in a lot of trouble.

Hutch: Yeah, we’ll, Goose, you got it all wrong. Because you see, right now, I’m gonna go out and I’m gonna bust another one of Amboy’s operations. And he’s gonna be so busy crying that he’s not gonna remember your name. The good times are over, pal. Book him, huh?

Starsky: Yeah. (Hutch goes to leave) Hey, Hutch. Don’t be a hero.

Hutch: Who, me? (Leaves.)

Goose: Where’s he going?

Starsky: Oh, he’s going out to bust one of Mr. Amboy’s big number banks.

Goose: No one knows where the bank is.

Starsky: You wanna bet, turkey? Of course, if someone could warn the bank before the bust went down, Amboy would probably give him 10-grand reward and a tag team of broads to match. Of course, that ain’t gonna happen because the only ones that know about it are Hutch, me and you. Turn around. (Goose slugs him one and runs off) Hey! Hey, come back here! (Runs after him. Goose runs for the hearse. Starsky comes out and fires a shot into the air.) Halt! (The hearse drives off. Starsky runs for the Torino and pulls up and they’re off)

Hutch: I hope that guys dumb enough to lead us to Amboy’s bank.

Starsky: Are you kidding? His hat size is bigger than his IQ.

(Goose’s hearse drives erratically down the street with a tracking device stuck on it.

Starsky: Did you plant the beeper on the hearse?

Hutch: What does that look like?

Starsky: Beeper.

Hutch: That’s right. (The car screeches round a corner)

Starsky: You know, if that guy keeps burning rubber like some brave soldier in a black and white is gonna pull him over before we reach that piggy bank.

Hutch: Right. (Picks up the mic) This is Zebra Three to all units in the west side, sector north. Do not, repeat no, interfere with a speeding hearse. The driver is en route to an emergency funeral. His own.

(The Tornio continues to follow the hearse)

Grocery Store: Day

(A man takes a bag from the grocer and opens the back door of a limo)

Goon: Bennie says it’s real fresh, Mr. Amboy.

Amboy: He always says that. (Takes some corn out of the bag) What he doesn’t know is that corn has to be eaten within the first few hours of picking. Otherwise, the natural sugars turn starchy and you lose the delicate flavour. (Takes a bit and happily chews it over) That’s beautiful. (Spits it out.) Mm-hm. Now, what about the weekend receipts? What’d they come to?

Goon: $141,000. Not bad for a quiet weekend.

Amboy: Itchy, tell Bennie to pack some more corn with the rest of my order. And make him hurry up with my bread. (Itchy gets out) Sit here too long, the corn’s gonna spoil, huh?

Goon: Yeah, yeah.

(Goose’s hearse comes round the corner and crashes into crates of fruit. He gets out.)

Goose: Run for it, the cops. (The Torino comes up behind him with Starsky’s door open, catching him in the back.)

Amboy: There’s a problem. Let’s get out of here. Move it.

(The limo speeds off. Itchy takes out his gun and fires at Hutch who ducks behind crates of watermelons. Goose swings a punch at Starsky, but he ducks and slugs him in the gut)

Starsky: Only one sucker punch to a customer, sucker. (Smashes some grapefruit over Goose’s head and pushes him to the ground.

(Meanwhile in the limo)

Amboy: Get Stockwood on the phone. I want my people out on bail before the ink gets dry on the booking cards. And then get me the name of those pigs.

(Back at the grocery store Hutch throws a watermelon at Itchy who’s crouched on the other side. It lands next to him. Hutch jumps over the crate and knocks a crate of grapefruit onto Itchy.)

Hutch: Don’t do it, turkey. (Takes Itchy’s gun. Starsky comes over with Goose)

Starsky: Should’ve known this place was crooked. (Picks up a brown sack.) What they getting for corn? (Tares open to sack and finds corn and money.)

Hutch: And it looks like it’s not gonna be one of Mr. Amboy’s better days.

Dobey’s Office: Day

(A man in a suit is putting the money from the brown sack in a suitcase while Dobey watches. Starsky and Hutch enter.)

Starsky: What’s going on? We spent a whole morning trying to bust Amboy’s creeps. And now they’re walking before we even finished writing our reports.

Hutch: Hey. Hey, wait a minute. Wait a minute. This stuff is evidence, captain.

Dobey: Take it easy. This is Mr. Amboy’s attorney. Mr. Stockwood.

Stockwood: It is cash intended for my client’s legitimate business, which you and your partner appropriated legally while engaged in improper search and seizure.

Hutch: Captain…

Stockwood: You didn’t even bother to get a warrant.

Hutch: Captain, we had a warrant.

Starsky: What’s the 140 thou for? Brussels Sprouts? Look, captain, we pursued an escaped felon to a suspected numbers banks. We confiscated $140’000 in case from known criminals who resisted arrest.

Dobey: You also crossed the county line.

Hutch: What?

Dobey: That’ right. The warrant was issued in this county. In the pursuit of your suspect to that vegetable market, you crossed the county line. That made it invalid.

Stockwood: You’d better explain the legal facts of life to your men, captain. Then perhaps their future procedures will be, shall we say, less questionable.

Starsky: Look, buster, I don’t know who the hell you- (Mickey enters)

Mickey: Mr. Stockwood, they said I could go now. Excuse me for interrupting.

Stockwood: I’ll be leaving with you. To wrap this up, gentlemen, I don’t know why you’ve taken it upon yourselves to wage this vendetta against Mr. Amboy, but perhaps you’ll be ale to explain your actions in court. (Hutch closes the door)

Hutch: I think I’d like to try to explain it right now. Mickey. (Takes her arm)

Mickey: Hey, hey. (Show’s Stockwood the tiny needle marks on her inner arm)

Hutch: Look at that. Pretty, huh? Now, Mickey is 17 years old. She belongs in school flunking Latin or going out with the class jock, not turning tricks on the street to feed her arm. Now, who strung her out, Stockwood, along with thousands of other kids just like her? That good old, legitimate businessman client of yours. We want him. And we’re not gonna stop until we get him.

Stockwood: I suggest you keep your men off my client’s back, captain. Or be prepared to suffer the consequences. (Dobey hands him the back of corn)

Dobey: Listen, here, take this stuff and get out. Go on, get out! (Stockwood leaves)

Mickey: Hey, I’m really sorry. (She leaves. Hutch slams the door.)

Starsky: Cap…

Dobey: I don’t want to hear it. (Sits at his desk) Amboy’s friends upstairs been kicking me in the shins all morning. I’m not gonna have it from you. Look, I’m gonna tell you something. If you can’t get Amboy legally, I mean legally, back off and forget about it.

Hutch: We had him, captain. We almost had him. And if we stick with him, sooner of later he’s gonna make a mistake and when he does we are gonna get him.

Dobey: All right. But make sure that mistake happens soon. Because until then, it’s harassment. Now, go on, get out of my office, both of you. Go on! (They leave)

Burger Bar: Day

(The approach the burger bar)

Starsky: You really gotta give this play a chance. (Grabs Hutch)

Hutch: What? (Drags him onto the pavement.)

Starsky: Would you get off the grass?

Hutch: Oh, come on.

Starsky: You got no respect, man. These people work very hard. Very hard. Underprivileged people. Now, come on. This restaurant, you know, is fantastic. And I want you to order anything to your heart’s delight. I’m treating. Now, grab a menu. (Hands him a menu) Come on. Wait until I show you this. You’re gonna flip. (Hutch is distracted by the fly paper strips hanging around him.) Featured dish, hey. Peanut-butter burritos con jelly. What’s the matter?

Hutch: A lot of flies around here, aren’t there?

Starsky: Oh, don’t worry. They’re flying, not landing. Come on, let’s order. I am so hungry. (Car horn honking) Morning.

Hutch: Starsk.

Starsky: Huh?

Hutch: That’s your car horn.

Hutch: No, it isn’t.

Starsky: Boy, am I… (Hutch sprays something.) Will you, please?

Hutch: Starsky, that’s your horn.

Starsky: Don’t worry so much and order. I’m hungry.

Hutch: All right, I’ll fix it. (Begins to walk back)

Starsky: Oh, you’re terrific. (Walks across the grass.)

Hutch: Get off the grass. Don’t you have any respect? These people work very hard.

Starsky: You know, you got a lot of nerve, you know. I was buying. It was my treat.

Hutch: Yeah.

Starsky: You know what’s wrong with you?

Hutch: What? (The horn stops as they get close.)

Starsky: Mmm. Must have been a short.

Hutch: You know what I’d like right now is a nice tall glass of orange juice. (Starsky checks the horn. A man in the back sits up, aiming a gun at Starsky. Hutch goes for his gun.)

Man: You’d never make it. Just relax, boys, and get in the car. We’re going for a nice, little ride. Mr. Amboy wants to see you.

Amboy’s Place: Day

(Amboy is sat at his desk reading The London Daily Dispatch when Starsky and Hutch enter with the two goons flanking them.)

Amboy: Gentlemen, I didn’t hear you come in. I guess I was really enjoying my newspaper. You know, London is such an interesting city. (Comes round to meet them.) Please, excuse my rudeness. You’re upset. Oh, listen, I’d be sore too if a couple of gorillas dragged me off the street and took me away from my regular activities. Will you put those weapons away? Sergeants Starsky and Hutchinson...

Starsky: Hutchinson.

Hutch: Starsky.

Amboy: They’re my guests. (The guys put their guns away.) Please, sit down. Please. They’re animals. (Starsky and Hutch sit by the fire.) How about a drink? Nothing like a little champagne to clean out the palate and get it ready for some caviar.

Hutch: Oh, Dom Perignon, 1966. Now, that was a year.

Starsky: Is that good?

Hutch: Is that good? That’s one of the best years for champagne. Beluga, huh? (Spreads some caviar on a cracker)

Amboy: Ah, you’re a man who knows quality.

Starsky: That grey jelly? (Hutch takes a bite)

Hutch: Starsky, this grey jelly happens to be one of the most expensive foods in the world. Try it. Go ahead. (Spreads some more on the cracker.) Try it. (Uses his fingers to get it on properly)

Starsky: You got your fingers all over it.

Hutch: That’s all right. It’s good. (Starsky takes it) Uh, could I have a napkin please?

Amboy: Bring them some napkins.

Hutch: Uh, two.

Amboy: You know, I uh, I knew you gentlemen were something special. I mean, uh, I mean, the way you, uh, stepped out of your precinct and came after me. I mean, that shows me that you’re, uh, individuals with, uh, determination and spirit. (Hutch spreads a napkin over Starsky’s knee.) And men with those kind of qualities deserve opportunity. I drink to opportunity.

Starsky: Here.

Hutch: I mean, that’s what this great country’s all about, huh?

Starsky: Hey. You know something?

Hutch: Hm?

Starsky: This ain’t bad.

Hutch: No.

Starsky: You know, I think this is gonna be our first bicentennial bribery offer.

Amboy: Bribes are for nobodies. I’m talking opportunity. (Hutch points at the champagne.) Please. I mean, let’s face it, gentlemen. What I have here is a red, white and blue 100 percent American success story. And I can make it your story too.

Hutch: Starsky, I don’t think he’s offering us a bribe.

Starsky: Hm?

Hutch: I think he’s offering us our future.

Amboy: ‘Future.’ Now that’s the word. You know, gentlemen, you can’t imagine how good everything tastes when you’re rich and powerful.

Starsky: I wonder how this tastes with peanut butter. (Amboy laughs) Oh, you know something? I never thought about being an executive in the dope industry. What do you think?

Hutch: Well, I got a few questions.

Amboy: Please, ask away.

Hutch: Starsk, you know anybody else might’ve tried to pass off red caviar.

Starsky: It’s no good?

Hutch: Well, it’s not the real thing. It’s salmon eggs. Now, this is the real thing. It’s Russian sturgeon. The best, right?

Amboy: The best.

Hutch: Mr. Amboy can afford to pay for the best. (Starsky looks a little disgusted at what he’s just eaten.) What about all those 9-year-olds OD’d in doorways and the teenage hookers that you send into the sewers?

Amboy: What about them? Oh, you guys know them personally? No, let me answer that for you. You don’t know them because you didn’t want to knew them. Because they’re nothings, they’re zeros. They’re losers. You see, whatever kicks they get, I sell them. And if they didn’t buy it from me, they’d get it from somebody else. I’m just a good businessman. (Clicks his fingers) Itchy. (Rolls over a table)

Hutch: Very nice.

Amboy: That’s our lunch. Itchy trained at Cordon Bleu.

Hutch: Really?

Amboy: Mm.

Hutch: Ragout?

Amboy: Ragout.

Hutch: Starsky, this is ragout.

Starsky: Ragout?

Hutch: Lamb kidneys and…

Amboy: Baby veal.

Hutch: Ah, baby veal. ( Lifts a spoonful) Beautiful sauce. (Drops it) And the rotten smell of blood. We don’t want any part of your future, Amboy. It stinks.

Amboy: You know, you’re dumb. Both of you, you’re dumb cops. (Hutch picks up a lemon slice.) I offer you the good life and you throw it in my face. Why don’t you guys take a good look around? I’m the one with the broads, the bread and the limousine. See, you seem to forget one thing, the golden rule. Remember it well. The man with the gold makes the rules.

Starsky: You’re gonna fall, Amboy. You’re gonna fall. And when you do, we’re gonna be right behind you. See you. (They head for the door. It’s closed by one of the goons.)

Goon 2: You yp-yos need some manners. (Starsky thumps him in the stomach. Hutch skirts lemon juice in the other’s eyes and thumps him in the stomach. While Starsky and Hutch take the goons down Itchy blocks the doorway and gets in a fighting stance.)

Hutch: I think he knows karate. (Starsky picks up the ragout bowl and throws it in Itchy’s face. Hutch thumps him in the stomach and in the back. They take their weapons back from the goons and stand by the door.)

Starsky: You’re lifestyle has just changed, Amboy. Things arin’t gonna taste so good from now on.

Hutch: Bon appetit. (They leave. The goons get up, ready to follow.)

Amboy: Hold it, you idiots. We’re gonna waste them, but I’m gonna tell you where and when.

The Torino: Day

Hutch: Something’s wrong. No, not exactly wrong, just a piece out of place.

Starsky: Amboy’s out of place. He belongs in a cage in a zoo.

Hutch: Yeah, well, we’ll put him there. Just as soon as he makes that buy, he’s vulnerable.

Starsky: Right. Why don’t you call him up on the phone and ask him when he plans to do that? It would save a lot of time.

Hutch: Oh, that’s cute. Maybe there’s another way we can find out, huh?

A Bar: Day

(Huggy takes a set of darts out of the dart board.)

Huggy: Best score for three darts. 50 bucks, right?

Hutch: Fifty?

Starsky: Fifty’s kinda high.

Huggy: Well, it’s a game of chance, my man. Could turn out to cost you nada.

Hutch: Okay. Okay, Huggy. What do you got?

Huggy: Well, the word is, the street is just about dry. Lots of sick people out there hungry, looking for a fix. (Throws the dart, bullseye.) And big hearted sort that Mr. A is, he boosted his prices up during the drought, making for a lot of unhappy, unsatisfied customers. (Throws the second dart.)

Starsky: So the pressure’s on Amboy to come up with the stuff quick.

Huggy: Uh-huh. And according to the grapevine, it won’t be long until he does. I ain’t no fortune-teller, but if you want my educated guess, Amboy’s got to score and score big in the next couple of days. (Throws last dart.)

Hutch: Well, it’s no wonder Amboy was anxious to make us rich. With that big buy coming up, we’re too close for comfort.

Huggy: Hey, fellas, that makes my score 63. And there ain’t no way you gonna beat that. So, 50 bucks, please.

Starsky: Hold it. Hold everything. We get a shot. (Huggy hands him a set of darts.)

Huggy: Be my guest, Starsky.

Hutch: All right, that’s 50 bucks, Starsk.

Starsky: Clobber him. (Offers Hutch the dart.) You can do it. Go ahead. (Hutch takes the dart, sharp end first and winces.) Sorry. Watch this. He used to be a collegiate dart champion.

Hutch: Just step back, huh?

Starsky: Step back. (Hutch throws. The dart swings away from the board and hits a tankard on the roof.)

Huggy: Nice shot.

Starsky: Okay, settle down. You’ll get the hang of it. Go ahead. (Hutch takes the second dart. He throws it and it swings away into a painting.)

Huggy: What’s the matter? (Starsky looks at the next dart.)

Starsky: You doctored the darts.

Hutch: What?

Huggy: Hey, man, the house has gotta have an edge. Right? (Starsky drops the dart on Huggy’s foot. He winces and they leave)

Andre’s: Night.

(Amboy is having dinner at the fancy restaurant with some people.)

Rogier: And the baby boar with the small potatoes and the carrots. Excellent choice, Mr. Amboy.

Amboy: Thank you, Rogier. And I’d like the endive braised lightly.

Rogier: Oh, yes, yes.

Amboy: Lightly.

Rogier: Yes.

Amboy: If they overcook it, it tastes like trash. Paul, bring me some Mersault. I love Mersault on Tuesdays.

Lady: Very good wine.

(Starsky and Hutch enter)

Hutch: Good evening.

Starsky: Hey, hey, hey, hey, look who we have here.

Hutch: Mr. Amboy, pusher and bigtime…? (Knocks into a tray as they approach the table)

Starsky: Oh, it’s Mr. Amboy, our pal, the connoisseur of eats, the owner of this fine establishment.

Hutch: Here, have a chair, Starsk.

Starsky: Thanks, don’t mind if I do. What you drinking, Mr. Amboy? (Smells the bottle) Oh, you call this vino? Throw it in the dumps. Bring Mr. Amboy a bottle of muscatel, and some fine Polish sausage and some sour pickles. You know, the kind with the giant warts.

Lady: Oh.

Amboy: Please, excuse the intrusion. I don’t know who these buffoons are.

Hutch: Oh, forgive us. We’re very, very close, personal friends with Mr. Amboy here. Uh, waiter, would you kindly bring this charming couple a crock of prune juice. They’re gonna need it if they’re friends of his.

Rogier: How dare you accost Mr. Amboy in his own establishment?

Starsky: Uh, Hutch, perhaps we lack couth. Aw, come on, let’s Mr. Amboy and his pals chow down. (Stands up) Come in here and do what we started to do.

Hutch: That’s a good idea. (Blows a whistle)

Starsky: Police.

Hutch: Police.

Starsky: Checking violations of the health code.

Hutch: I checked the garbage cans out, Amboy. They don’t look too good. They’re full of garbage.

Lady: This is utterly unforgivable. (Starsky leans down beside her,)

Starsky: Oh, try and be a good sport about it, sweetheart. The body search comes next.

Lady: Oh, Henry. (Hutch stops the man from getting up)

Hutch: Never can tell who might be harbouring dangerous fruit flies.

Amboy: Now, cut it out! (Stands up) Get off my back!

Starsky: Whoo! Prune juice is on the house. (They head for the exit)

Amboy: I’m not gonna let you guys harass me, you understand? I’m not gonna let you crumbs harass me. You understand? (They turn back)

Man: I’m never coming here again.

Hutch: I think we’re starting to get to him. (They continue to the door)

Starsky: This could be the beginning of a terminal relationship. (Blows a kiss and leaves)

Amboy’s Estate: Night.

(Starsky and Hutch are staking out the place. Hutch is in the front while Starsky’s asleep in the back.)

Hutch: Starsk. Starsky.

Starsky: Mm.

Hutch: Starsk.

Starsky: I told you, not tonight. I got a headache.

Hutch: Oh, come on. It’s 4:00 in the morning. I’d like to get a little sleep too, you know? Come on.

Starsky: Okay. (Starsky starts climbing over, just as Hutch starts moving back)

Hutch: Why don’t you let me get back first?

Starsky: Oh, just…

Hutch: What…?

Starsky: Oh, my neck.

Hutch: What are you doing? (They switch places after a lot of groaning) Nobody’s gone in or out. (Starsky rubs his neck) Well, I could’ve told you you’d have a crick in your neck. Your posture’s terrible.

Starsky: My posture?

Hutch: Yeah, your posture. (Starsky pushes Hutch foot away from his face) Easy, that’s my foot.

Amboy’s Estate: Day

(Hutch is moaning in his sleep)

Hutch: No. Get away from me. (Moans.)

Starsky: Hutch.

Hutch: What?

Starsky: Wake up.

Hutch: What?

Starsky: Amboy’s just had a visitor. (A man leaves the house and gets in a car.) He’s just leaving. (The car drives away.)

Hutch: Man, was I having a nightmare. (Starts climbing into the front) This 300-pound hairdresser with a curling iron. (The car starts with Hutch halfway across) Just wait a second, will you? (Picks up the mic) This is Zebra Three. Will you run a make on license number…?

Starsky: Save it.

Hutch: What do you mean, ‘save it.’?

Starsky: Save it. It’s Squire Fox.

Hutch: How do you know that?

Starsky: I saw him.

Hutch: Well, why didn’t you say so?

Starsky: I just did.

Hutch: This is Zebra Three. Save it. (They continue to follow the car) Squire Fox? That name sounds familiar Starsk.

Starsky: It ought to. Give you a hint. Small time smugglers, booze, cigarettes.

Hutch: Shakedowns on the shipping lanes, right?

Starsky: You got it. (The car turns right.) He made us. (Speeds up)

Hutch: Yeah, he’s moving.

Starsky: Don’t worry. Squire Fox never out ran anybody. (The take a sharp corner)

Hutch: Hey, hey, wait a minute, Starsk. Wait a minute. Stop the car, will you?

Starsky: What are you talking about?

Hutch: Starsk, just stop the car.

Starsky: What are you talking about? I’m gonna lose him.

Hutch: Starsky, stop the car.

Starsky: You’re nuts!

Hutch: Stop the car, Starsk!

Starsky: Okay! (He turns the car and stops the car)

Hutch: Starsk.

Starsky: Why’d you do that to me? (Cradles his neck.)

Hutch: Starsky. Starsky, that something that was out of place, Squire Fox just put it back together again.

Starsky: That something that was out of place is my neck. I just got whiplash.

Hutch: No, no, it’s not. The London Daily Dispatch.

Starsky: London Daily Dispatch?

Hutch: What was a slug like Amboy doing reading The London Daily Dispatch?

The Streets: Day

(Hutch walks towards the Torino carrying a newspaper, while Starsky stands around moaning about his neck.)

Hutch: Well, Amboy’s tastes in reading didn’t exactly run in the gamut of great literature.

Starsky: Literature?

Hutch: Well, he wouldn’t have been leafing through The London Daily Dispatch without a reason.

Starsky: He wasn’t leafing.

Hutch: What was he doing?

Starsky: Staring. (Starsky takes the paper from Hutch)

Hutch: What?

Starsky: And he had it folded. (Folds the newspaper) Like this.

Hutch: All right. (Takes the paper)

Starsky: Anything? (Hutch points to an article) “Passengers leaving Southampton on S.S. Southwold for luxury cruise.”

Hutch: Right.

Starsky: So?

Hutch: So it arrives tomorrow night.

Starsky: Terrific.

Hutch: Amboy needs to make a buy and I think he made himself an English connection.

Starsky: Hey…

A Tailor’s: Day

(Amboy’s on the phone)

Amboy: I know you got customers waiting. They’re my customer’s too, ain’t they? (He flips through some swatches) Well, listen, it’s not like taking a prescription down to your neighbourhood drugstore, you know. (Selects one just as Starsky and Hutch enter.) I’m working on the problem. Now, you just tell your people that everybody’s getting well real soon. (Hutch’s whistling attracts Micky and Amboy’s attention.) I’ll call you back. (Hangs up) Get out of my life.

Hutch: Oh, say, Amboy, we thought you might be interested in this item in The London Daily Dispatch. It’s very interesting.

Starsky: Yeah. There’s this article about a boat about to leave from England loaded with dream dust.

Amboy: I’m not putting up with any more of this. Stockwood! (Amboy enters a changing room)

Mickey: Now you’re gonna get it. (Stockwood enters)

Stockwood: That’s far enough, gentlemen. (Takes out a bit of paper) This is an injunction enjoining you from further harassment of Mr. Amboy. Interfere with his normal activities again and you will be subject to prosecution under law.

Starsky: Harassment? Harassment? We didn’t come here to harass anyone did we, Hutch?

Hutch: Certainly not.

Starsky: No.

Hutch: We were just down here checking on a report of a flasher in the area. (Draws back the curtain to show Amboy putting on his trousers) And there he is, shamelessly exposing himself. (Mickey laughs)

Starsky: I can’t look. It’s disgusting. Would you please read him his rights, Sergeant Hutchinson.

Mickey: Mr. A, a flasher? (Laughs)

Hutch: Listen, Starsk, maybe we can let the man off with a warning if he promises to buy a raincoat, huh?

Amboy: Won’t be such a big laugh when you comedians get busted for hassling me. I got the law on my side. (Walks past them and Mickey who’s still laughing) Shut up! (He goes into a private room. Mickey’s about the follow)

Hutch: Mickey.

Mickey: Now what are you gonna get me for? Double parking? What’s the matter?

Hutch: You shouldn’t be laughing, Mickey, not when the joke’s on you.

Starsky: See, Mickey, as far as Amboy’s concerned you’re a nothing. All he’s gotta do is wind you up on smack and you’re gonna do anything he wants and that, to him, is a great big yuck.

Hutch: Now, we know that Amboy’s gonna be making a buy. And we wanna be there to bust him when he does. Now, maybe you can remember what your like was like before he turned you into a funny girl and give us a call. We’ll be waiting to hear from you.

Mickey: Yeah, I’ll give you a call…next time I need a laugh. (Laughs and leaves)

Amboy’s Estate: Day

(A catering truck is parked outside. A car pulls up. A man takes a big bunch of flowers out the back and heads inside, passing Starsky hidden in the bushes. He talks on his walkie talkie.)

Starsky: Hutch. Hey, Hutch. (Hutch is in another bush, with a bee buzzing round him.)

Hutch. (Hutch is still trying to shake off the bee) Hey, Blondie?

Hutch: What do you want?

Starsky: What do I want? I’m lonely. You got anything over there?

Hutch: No, nothing much. Just some bumblebee that’s hot after my after-shave.

Starsky: Don’t move. (Hutch attacks his neck)

Hutch: What? What?

Starsky: Don’t move. It’s probably a very friendly bee, probably just making an inquiry. Amboy’s planning quite a party; I wonder what he’s celebrating.

Hutch: Probably confusion. (Climbs over a tree branch.) He probably wants as much activity to cover his moves as he can get. (Sits down and screams)

Starsky: Shh! What’s the matter?

Hutch: That bee just inquired.

Starsky: About what?

Hutch: A not-too-distant relative.

Starsky: The misfortunes of man.

Amboy’s office: Day

(Amboy is sat at his desk, speaking on the phone.)

Amboy: I know you got a business to run. What do you think I’m doing, playing games? Huh? Look, you know I always deliver. I just gotta make my arrangements. (Picks up the phone and walks around his desk) Oh, you think you’re the only one with muscle to back up what he says, huh? Look, you know I always come through for you. I always do. What do I care how you stay open? That’s your problem. (Hangs up) All my dealers got troubles. I’ll show them what trouble’s really like if I don’t make my arrangements. Well, did you take care of everything?

Goon: Sure, Mr. A.

Amboy: What about Starsky and Hutch?

Goon: Just like I told you before.

Amboy: I know you told me before, but I want you to keep telling me. Do you understand? I don’t want no slip-ups. We’re coming down to the short strokes, and I don’t want no slip-ups, do you understand me?

Goon: Yes, Mr. Amboy… (Amboy slaps him)

Amboy Estate: Day.

(A man exits the building.)

Starsky: Hold it. Who is that guy?

Hutch: What? (The man walks to the truck) That’s one guy we didn’t account for. I can’t make him out from here. Can you?

Starsky: Fox. That’s Squire Fox, without his English wardrobe. He must be taking Amboy out early to lose us. Let’s more on him.

Hutch: Well, wait for me.

(Hutch climbs out of the bushes and follows Starsky across the lawn. He stops at the truck and signals to Starsky. Starsky comes to a door, where a man comes out and points a gun at his back. Hutch comes up behind the man.)

Hutch: Hold it, pal. (A gun is pointed at Hutch from inside the truck)

Man: You hold it, pal. Police officers and you guys are under arrest.

Dobey’s Office: Night.

(Dobey slams a sheet of paper on the desk)

Dobey: I knew this was gonna happen!

Starsky: Captain, you’re failing to appreciate one thing.

Dobey: You know what this is?

Starsky: Yeah, I know what that is.

Dobey: This is a court order. You keep hassling that man, you’re gonna find yourself in jail.

Starsky: Okay, then call us and next we can slap our wrists. In the meantime, you got a buy going down any minute.

Hutch: Captain, you can’t let us get this far in this case and then pull us off when we got that scum by the back of the neck. Now, can’t you pretend you never saw that warrant before, huh? (Phone rings)

Dobey: Dobey here. Yeah. For you, Hutch. It’s supposed to be urgent.

Starsky: You know, Hutch has got a point. You’re always mislaying things. (Hutch takes the phone)

Hutch: Yeah, Hutchinson.

Starsky: Why don you just lose that for a couple of hours.

Dobey: Told you three days ago this was gonna happen.

Starsky: For a couple of hours, cap…

Hutch: Shh, shh, shh. It’s Mickey. (On the phone) Yeah, Mickey, I’m listening.

Mickey: You said I should call if I ever grew up.