Disclaimer: These are still not my characters, but I keep hoping.
A/N: This story was first published in the STAR for Brian's second CDzine. Many thanks to all of you who helped us get that star!
Epilogophilia, Season Two: D-Day
When Diedre "Didi" Drylinger visits her brother-in-law, Judge Hardcastle, he is less than thrilled. Her "suggestions" and "improvements" are always nerve-wracking. But after her apartment is burgled, Hardcastle and McCormick determine that her activities in a police procedures course leads to her teacher's involvement with mobster Gus Rossman. D-Day is kidnapped by the two bad guys, but manages to free herself just as the judge and McCormick arrive with the police.
Epilogue—by Owlcroft
The judge and McCormick waved good-bye from the front steps and Didi stuck her arm through the side window of the car and waved back vigorously.
Hardcastle took a deep breath, then exhaled noisily. "At last. I thought we'd neverget rid of her." He turned and went through the front door into the hallway, McCormick following.
"Come on, Judge. She's not so bad." Mark looked thoughtful, then added, "A little overbearing. maybe, but she's really a nice lady."
Hardcastle stuck out a hand to feel the younger man's forehead.
"Hey, knock it off!" Mark protested. "I mean it. She's not so bad . . . if you kind of stay out of her way."
"Stay away from her, more like," muttered the judge. "It's almost noon; you hungry?" He snorted and headed down the hallway to the kitchen. "Stupid question."
McCormick followed. "No, really, I mean it. She cleaned the place, she did the laundry, she cooked. She did all the work around here the whole time and she even grocery-shopped. Okay, she's a little too . . . um, overpowering maybe. But I kinda feel sorry for her."
"Sorryfor her?" Hardcastle pushed open the kitchen door. "I know what your problem is. You haven't eaten any real food since she got here. We got any ham slices?"
"I think so." Mark perched on the corner of the table. "Yeah, I'm sorry for her because I think she's lonely. Look at her, Judge. She's filling up all of her time with classes and shopping and making tape recordings for herself. She doesn't have anybody to dothings with. Nobody to spend time with or go home to at night."
The judge paused, hand on the refrigerator door. "Hmm. You may actually have a point there." He considered for a moment. "But you'd think she'd make friends at some of those classes. Things in common and all."
McCormick shifted on the table corner. "Maybe she's afraid of making friends since her husband died. Maybe she's afraid of losing somebody else." He fidgeted idly with the lace doily under the salt and pepper shakers, then picked it up and held it by one corner. "What do we do with this?"
"Aw, put it in a drawer." Hardcastle leaned back against the fridge and tilted his head thoughtfully. "Could be, I guess. But she'll get over it. Just takes time is all." He sighed resignedly. "And if she doesn't, we'll have her over to dinner a few times, okay?"
"Deal. Ham slices?" Mark reminded him hopefully.
"Right." The judge pulled the fridge door open and stared in stunned dismay.
Didi had left all the jars and bottles arranged in order of size, shortest in front and had stacked several labeled ovenproof containers to one side.
"'Turnip and soybean casserole'," read Hardcastle. "'Layered yams and eggplant', 'green bean and cucumber stew'." He looked at McCormick, eyebrows raised in shock and horror.
Mark grinned at him and stood up. "Lunch at the gatehouse," he announced, then added confidingly, "I'vegot bologna and cheese."