Disclaimer: Not mine, never were mine, not gonna be mine. Drat, drat, drat!

Author's Note: Another epilogue first published in Volume One of the S.T.A.R. for Brian Keith 'zines. To all of you who've supported our efforts, my sincere and enthusiastic thanks!

Once Again with Vigorish

epilogue by Owlcroft

Assistant District Attorney Pamela Peterson has a rock-solid case against long-term racketeer Frank Kelly. But when Kelly's hoods kidnap the wife of the star witness and force the DA's office into dropping the charges, Pam goes to her old boss—and her old crush—retired Judge Hardcastle. Hardcastle is all business at first, and suggests a sting,where McCormick will pose as an ex-con looking for a not-overly legal investment from Kelly. But before long, the judge and Mark find themselves competing for Pammy's attention and possibly even becoming romantic rivals.

Meanwhile, not completely trusting the new truck driver he's hired, Kelly has some of his men follow McCormick; when McCormick deviates from the planned route, they attempt a truck-jacking and murder. The judge, McCormick, and A.D.A. Peterson foil the attempt and the men are arrested. Kelly, knowing McCormick will testify against him in a new trial, kidnaps Pammy just before the trial begins and Hardcastle and McCormick once again ride to the rescue, saving the A.D.A. and collaring Kelly for the final time. By now, Mark and Milt have each resigned themselves to bowing out of romance for the sake of the other, only to discover that Pam has yet another man in her life.

ooooo

The two men were silent on the way back to Gull's Way. Pammy Peterson's fiancee' was a likable enough guy. Nothing special. An attorney. You could see how they'd met; seemed to have a lot in common.

"Hmmph," said Judge Hardcastle at one point. McCormick took his eyes off the road for an instant to look over at him, but nothing was added to it.

Just a few minutes short of Gull's Way, Mark spoke. "He seems okay. Nice guy and all that."

Hardcastle shrugged, then nodded. "Yeah. I guess."

Another silence took pace.

As the Coyote muttered down the drive toward the house, the judge sighed, then said, "Oh, well. Looks like neither of us were right for her anyway, kid."

McCormick pulled up right in front of the steps and shut off the engine. "Yeah." He levered himself up onto the frame of the car and looked at the judge. "But I gotta say, I think you'd have been a better choice than that guy."

The judge pulled himself out of the Coyote and started up the steps to the house. "Maybe," he said, without looking back. "You'd have been a better choice than him, too."

Mark followed him into the house and down the hall to the kitchen. He watched Hardcastle run the tap until the water was cold, then fill a large glass. "You want some ice for that?"

"Nah. Just cold's fine." The judge leaned against the counter and looked at the younger man seriously. "You been following the rules pretty well, McCormick." He twisted his mouth wryly. "Most of the time."

Mark settled a hip onto the small kitchen table. "Was that a complaint or a compliment, Hardcase?"

Hardcastle snorted. "Both, I guess." He set the glass on the counter and folded his brawny arms across his chest. "But maybe I shoulda had a rule about us going after the same lady. I don't want this kinda situation coming up again."

McCormick waved a deprecatory hand at him. "Come on. What're the odds we'd be interested in the same person again?"

"Small, probably. But it happened once, and we oughta have a rule in place."

"You know something, Judge? You're rule-happy." Mark shook his head. "Not everything has to be covered by a rule." He grinned suddenly. "And it's more fun if you make it up as you go along."

"Look, McCormick. I know you're used to a more, um, unstructured life-style, but what you need is rules. Guidelines. Discipline. Something to fall back on when there's a question." He scowled at Mark's snorted laugh. "I'm serious. You got in trouble in the first place 'cause you didn't have a moral compass to go by--"

"Now we're not going back to that 'moral compass' bit again!" McCormick stood and pointed an emphatic finger at the judge. "I got 'in trouble' because some lunatic Lone Ranger of a judge couldn't understand--"

A female voice interrupted assertively. "That'll be quite enough arguing in my kitchen!" Sarah appeared at the top of the stairs leading to the housekeeper's suite. "If you're not here to help with dinner, take it outside or into the den."

Hardcastle said "We weren't arguing"; at the same time McCormick said "Yes, ma'am."

"Honestly," Sarah continued, "it's like having two children in the house. Aren't the two of you mature enough . . ." she paused while she re-considered what she'd been about to say. "Well, you ought to be mature enough by now to handle a situation like this without it ruining your friendship. Now both of you scoot, unless you want to peel potatoes." She waved them out the door to the hallway.

The two men stood in the hallway for a moment, ill-at-ease. Then McCormick spoke. "She's right, you know. We're grown-ups, we can deal with stuff."

"Yeah, I guess we ought to be able to, anyway." Hardcastle tugged on an ear. "Okay, we'll try winging it, but if a problem comes up, then we figure out a rule. Deal?"

"Winging it, huh?" smiled Mark. "Yeah, I can do that. Deal." He nodded, then turned and headed for the front door. "I'll get a start on the fountain pump. Maybe even get it done by dinner-time."

The judge clapped his hands together. "And I'll get the Kelly files put away and take a look at the next bad guy on our list."

As McCormick went out the door and the judge down the steps into the den, each had the same puzzled thought, Friendship?