A/N: As always, thanks to the people who got me into this and who keep me going. Blame them for it all!

POKER EVENING

by

Owlcroft

Judge Groves set down the tray of condiments and began distributing them between the platters of cheese and cold cuts. She tossed a glance up at the man beside her and said casually, "Frank tells me you took a little trip back East last week. Atlantic City, he said." She placed a pile of paper napkins just so, then straightened up and examined the table of poker snacks. "Do I have to find out everything from the boys in blue, Milt?"

Hardcastle shrugged and reached for a slice of bologna. "It's not a big deal. McCormick and I flew back for a coupla days, then came home. So?"

"What'd you do, give the kid a trip back to Jersey for a birthday present?" Frank Harper reached around Hardcastle to snag a napkin and a slice of provolone. "You coulda just picked out a nice card." He grinned slyly.

"Didn't you two have any dinner?" scolded Mattie. "Leave some for the rest of the guys, okay?" She checked that the crock-pot full of her famous ham and bean soup was bubbling happily, then tugged on Hardcastle's arm to get him away from the table. "Milt, come on. A trip to New Jersey? And out of the blue? What's going on?"

"Yeah, what's the deal here, Milt?" added Harper, filching another slice of cheese. "Last I heard it was just gonna be some home-cooked burgers and a ballgame on the tube. Now it's turned into a hot weekend in Atlantic City. You do know," he raised his eyebrows suggestively, "that Mark's not supposed to be gambling in those casinos?"

Hardcastle scowled at the other two, then threw his hands up in surrender. "Okay, okay. We flew out there because it's close to the kid's old stomping grounds and there was somebody he wanted to see. Somebody he hadn't talked to in a while and he wanted to do some catching up. We saw a coupla shows, walked on the Boardwalk, hit a few casinos." He darted a quick look at the lieutenant and added, "And I was the one who played craps, so I don't wanna hear about it from you, Frank."

The lieutenant looked at Mattie and sighed. "We're gonna get the story about the lady who climbs the feather again, right?"

Mattie shook her head emphatically. "Oh, no, we're not. If I hear that one more time, I swear I won't be responsible for what happens."

Milt snorted, then laughed aloud. "Actually, I have a new story about the showgirl with the feather, but I don't think I can tell anybody about it. Not yet, anyway."

Frank and Mattie looked at each other, then each grabbed a Hardcastle arm and hustled him over to the nearest armchair.

"Look, don't make a big deal outta this," the older man protested.

"You're the one who made a big deal out of it," the lieutenant replied, "when you snuck off to Jersey."

"Sneaked," corrected Judge Groves absentmindedly. "Milt, don't you see how odd this looks to us? McCormick shouldn't even be leaving the state and yet the two of you go jaunting off without even informing the Parole Board."

Hardcastle sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Yeah, I meant to leave a message for 'em, but things were kinda rushed. We got lucky with a flight out and had to really move fast to make it."

The other two waited patiently and, finally, he gave in with a shake of the head.

"Okay, okay." Milt leaned back and closed his eyes briefly. "The kid wanted to find somebody from his past and clear up some things that happened. Private stuff, so don't go asking about it. It was a reasonable thing to do, so when he found the guy, I let him go out there. I did go along with him, but it wasn't just to keep an eye on him. It was more . . ." he trailed off.

"'Cause you thought he might need a helping hand?" Mattie raised her eyebrows interrogatively.

Frank snorted. "Or because you figured he might need some back-up?"

Hardcastle pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed again. "I dunno; I just wanted a few friendly games of poker and some of that soup. How did this turn into the Spanish Inquisition?" He scowled at the Inquisitor General and then at her assistant. "I don't know exactly why, okay? Maybe 'cause he sounded like he needed a friend along. Is that a crime, huh?" He folded his arms testily.

There was a pause, then Harper said slowly, "No, it's not a crime. Unless the State of California picks a beef with you for an unauthorized trip."

"McCormick's in my custody--"

"Hah!" muttered Mattie.

"Well, there's not a lot of precedent to work with here, but I can put together a strong case for it all being kosher." Milt got to his feet and strolled over to the snack table again. "Besides, nobody's gonna find out and if they do, they won't care. It's all water under the bridge now." He flung out his fingers in a sweeping motion, then turned his gesture into a casual reach for a slice of olive loaf. "Everything's hunky-dory. Unless," he turned back to the two on the couch and narrowed his eyes at them, "somebody rats me out."

Harper rose and joined him at the table. "You know there's nobody in the department that would do that, Milt."

"And nobody in the judiciary cares." Mattie also stood up. "But I have to say, this McCormick guy is beginning to intrigue me." She extended a hand and began to tick points off on her fingers. "You put up with his antics and his smart mouth, you look the other way when he gets creative as your assistant, you fly him out to the East Coast to visit someone and even go along because you thought he

might need a friend'." She folded up her hand and crossed her arms. "I'll tell you what it seems like to me, Milt."

Hardcastle assumed a hunted yet slightly belligerent look. "Yeah, what does it seem like?"

"It seems to me," she walked over to join the two men at the table, "like you ought to bring this guy along to our next poker night. And," she reached for a napkin and handed it to Hardcastle, "it seems to me you have mustard on your shirt."

finis