Revenge

by owlcroft

Martin Cody breaks out of prison and comes after the guys who sent him up.

A/N: The villains in this story were introduced in the pilot for Hardcastle and McCormick, "Rolling Thunder"; this story is set nearly four years after those epic events.

A 64-ounce thank you to Cheri for whatever is right in this story.

REVENGE

by

Owlcroft

"Yeah, well, I appreciate you letting me know about it. Get back to me when you got a better handle on it, okay?" With a deep sigh, Hardcastle hung up the phone and scowled at the surface of his desk. He sighed again, pushed back his chair and made his way down the hall, through the kitchen and out the back door. No one was visible, but there was a muted clinking sound toward the back of the gatehouse so he headed in that direction.

McCormick heard the driveway gravel crunching and looked up from the paving stone he was replacing. "You ever drop one of those weights out here again and you can replace the damned paver yourself, Judge." He pounded on the replacement stone a few times, then sat back on his heels and dusted his hands. "I think that's in pretty solid. Come over here and jump up and down on it a few times." Mark caught a better look at the judge's expression and his tone changed. "What? Something's wrong."

The judge rubbed a finger across his nose and sniffed loudly. "Yeah, you could say that. Don't get all bent outta shape about it, but I just heard from a guy downtown about an acquaintance of ours. Martin Cody."

"Yeah, and?" Mark stood up and folded his arms, looking apprehensive. "Something happen to him in Lompoc?"

"Not exactly." Hardcastle grimaced unhappily then shrugged and said, "He broke out overnight. Had some help on the inside and outside, lotta bribery going on. Heads are gonna roll, I'm telling ya."

McCormick looked at him with astonishment written clear on his face. "That's it? Heads are gonna roll? Judge, Cody broke out of prison. He escaped. He's loose on the outside now and we're just standing here talking about who might lose their guard jobs? Come on, get your jacket." He plucked at the judge's sleeve as he pushed past and strode quickly toward the garage.

"Hold it a minute, willya?" called the judge irritably. "We're not going anywhere, at least not yet. There are plenty of people tracing the break-out at that end, and I've got a call into Frank about it right now. He's in a meeting with the Commissioner, but he's supposed to get back to me in about twenty minutes." He caught up with the younger man and pulled him toward the back steps. "Let's get all the information we can before we go off half-cocked, okay? You don't even know where to start looking, and you're ready to ride out, guns blazing, in all directions at once."

Mark followed him slowly into the kitchen. "But there's gotta be something we can be doing. I can't just sit around and wait for the cops to track him down." He dropped heavily into a chair and ran his hands through his hair. "I can't believe it. How in the hell did he do this?"

"That's one of the things we're waiting to find out." The judge started a fresh pot of coffee brewing and searched through the lower cabinets until he found the open package of cookies. "One of the guards involved took off right away and they haven't traced him yet. But the other one, the really dumb one, waited 'til this morning to make his getaway and they got him at the Mexican border." He took two cookies and offered the package to McCormick. "They're working on him now, trying to get everybody a better idea of where to start, okay? So just take it easy and let the system do its part."

McCormick took a cookie and looked at it. "So we don't even go downtown and hang around, bothering people and getting in the way."

"Nope." The judge finished his first cookie and threw a glance at the coffee maker. "Go on and eat your cookie. Coffee's almost done."

ooooo

Both men waited on the front stoop as Harper exited his car.

"Appreciate you stopping by, Frank," Hardcastle called.

McCormick said nothing, but stood with folded arms, staring stonily at the lieutenant.

"Milt, Mark." Harper trod up the steps and clapped McCormick on the shoulder. "I know you've probably been fidgety, but we think we've got something, so it was worth waiting for."

The judge led the way into the house and down the steps into the den. "Okay, let's have it then."

Harper settled into the wing chair at the far end of the desk, and sighed wearily. "Well, the guard – ex-guard, I should say – gave us some info which got us a couple of solid leads. We traced the payments from a bank in the Caribbean --"

"I don't really care how he did it," McCormick interrupted. "I want him caught and back behind bars!"

"I know, I know." Frank held up a placating hand. "You're involved personally with this one."

"You're damn right it's personal. He killed my best friend!" Mark looked fleetingly at the man behind the desk, "My best friend then, anyway. And I want him found, now."

Harper nodded. "Sure you do. We all do. But you can't go chasing after the guy when you're all upset like this. We're tracking him, and we think we know where he's headed, but we're gonna do this by the book, okay? Just because both of you were involved in sending Cody up in the first place." He leaned forward, elbows on his knees and gave each man an earnest look. "No Lone Ranger stuff this time, okay, guys? It seems Cody did a lot of talking in the joint about how one day he was gonna come after you two when he got out."

The judge harrumphed and picked up his letter opener. Tapping it lightly on the desk, he said slowly, "So you think he's heading this way, or planning to at some point?"

Frank nodded, then settled back into his chair and laced his hands together. "You got a real fan club going in Lompoc Prison, Milt. Cody used to talk all the time about his plans for getting back at you guys. And there were plenty of others who'd listen to him and make suggestions." He raised his eyebrows suggestively.

"Ah, they all talk that way." Hardcastle waved it off. "Hardly any of one 'em do it."

McCormick frowned. "But hardly any of them break out of prison, either. Cody did. You got anything else, Frank?"

"A little. The getaway car was dumped outside of Lompoc itself, which makes sense. We had three witnesses at the prison that saw it so Cody and whoever is with him had to replace it quick." Harper scrubbed a palm over his face tiredly. "Probably headed right for L.A. after that. It's real easy to hide in a big city. Anyway," he stood and shook out his pant legs, "I want you two to stay put here and there's already a squad car on the way that's gonna make sure you do. I don't want either of you involved in this, you hear?"

The judge looked at him, eyebrows lifted. "We might be some help, ya know."

"We could be a lot of help," said McCormick meaningfully. "I feel like I still owe Cody something, you know. That chase in Vegas had way too many bystanders."

Harper held up a finger. "No. Stay here and stay out of it, both of you. This isn't even really my department, you know. But we'll consider this a social call, right?"

McCormick looked unhappy, but reluctantly agreed. "But you keep us informed, Frank," he insisted. "And when you've got him located, I want to be in on it."

"That's the deal, Frank," added Hardcastle. "You said it's personal, for both of us, and that has to count for something."

Harper nodded and left.

ooooo

Joey Morgan grabbed Cody by the shirtfront and slammed him up against the paint-peeling wall in the 4th Avenue tenement. "What do you mean, you don't exactly have the cash?" he snarled.

Cody, pale and gaunt from his prison years, flinched but rallied to spit back, "You'll get it, okay! I had to give each of those guards fifty big ones in cash, so I've got to make some arrangements."

"Arrangements?" Morgan released Cody's shirt and stepped back to glare at him. "Arrangements. Listen, Cody, I had a career going, a good team. You know how much good stunt drivers can make? We were booked for a big-budget movie and then you came along with that stupid car demo in Vegas! I hooked up with you and spent three stinking years in Tehachapi. You owe me for more than the break-out. And you swore you'd have the money."

"I will have it. I've just got to cash in an investment and that'll take a couple of days." Cody tried to regain his balance and his poise. "You know I'm good for it, Joey. You know I wouldn't stiff you. You did a real good job of getting me out and I appreciate that. But paying off the guards took all the cash I could raise right now. Just give me a couple of days, and you'll get your payoff, okay? You know I'm good for it," he repeated.

Morgan leaned back against the hotel room's shabby table. "I only did it for the bucks, Cody." He seemed to delight in using the other man's last name without the dignity of a title. "And I don't trust you as far as I could spit, so you're sticking with me until I see my hundred grand."

Martin Cody, one-time investment whiz, once wealthy and powerful, tried to regain some of his old authority over his former employee. "Listen, Joey, you'll get your money but not until I pay off an old score. I've got plans for that judge and especially for that punk, McCormick, who stole my car. That Coyote is our ticket out of the country."

"Oh, yeah?" Morgan lit a cigarette and puffed smoke into his old boss's face. "We gonna drive it right across the Gulf of Mexico, huh?"

"Don't be a fool," snapped Cody. "I've got a buyer in Venezuela that'll pay me three times your hundred grand for that car. All we have to do is get it there. Now, here's the plan--"

"No, you listen to me for a change, Cody! We'll snag the car, that's fine. But anything else, that's right out. I don't need any complications and what you want really doesn't matter anymore." Morgan took a deep drag on his cigarette, inspecting the other man in an uncomplimentary fashion. "Look at you, Cody. You're a prison rat. You're just some three-timer's little bunk-buddy now. You better get used to the idea that from now on, I'm in charge."

Cody's eyes flashed, but he kept quiet and kept his distance.

ooooo

"You never talked much about Flip." The judge watched McCormick pace back and forth across the den. "I guess there wasn't a whole lotta time right then with everything that was going on. After that, we got kinda busy, too." He waited for a response, but got none. "I liked Barbara a lot. She handled everything real well, I thought. Bright kid. Got a lot going for her." Still nothing. Hardcastle sighed and looked out the window at the patrol car stationed there in case Cody paid a little social call.

Suddenly, McCormick stopped pacing and spoke. "Flip was . . . special. He was such a great guy and he really deserved better than to get involved with some lowlife scum like Cody." He also glanced out the window. "Do we really have to keep them, Judge? Can't you get a court order refusing police protection or something?"

"A restraining order against the cops?" Hardcastle quirked a tiny smile. "I wish."

"Well, how are we gonna get Cody if we've got the boys in blue out front? He's never gonna make a run at us if we're surrounded by cops." The pacing resumed.

"We'll think of something. Right now, let's wait for Frank to call with some leads, okay? You hungry? It's past lunch time."

Mark shook his head. "Maybe later. Hey, if you want something--"

The judge waved a hand in negation. "Nah, I'll have a little snack later on." He pursed his lips thoughtfully. "I kinda wish I'd known Flip. He sounds like somebody I'd've liked a lot." He looked up at the younger man with a question in his eyes.

"Yeah," sighed McCormick. "You two would've gotten along great. Once he'd forgiven you for sending me up. Barb told me . . . she told me he cried when I went to prison." He sat suddenly and put his head in his hands. "Why do such bad things happen to such good people?" There was a lengthy pause, then he added, "I thought I'd gotten over it all, you know? But Cody's being out just brought it all back."

"All what? You mean about Flip? Being sorry he was murdered?"

"Yeah, all the grief and . . . and anger, and the way I felt face to face with Cody." Mark lifted his head and stared at the wall opposite. "He was so . . . slimy, you know? Just such a total . . . I don't know, evil person. I don't think I'd ever met anybody like that before. Oh, sure, I'd been around plenty of bad guys, especially in the joint, crazy people even. But he was different, just so . . ."

"Amoral? Everything was about him, no connection with anybody else?" Hardcastle wrinkled his brow in thought. "No concern at all for any of his people."

McCormick nodded. "Yeah, even inside the really bad guys had family or girlfriends on the outside that mattered to them. I mean, some of the craziest and meanest had people that would visit or send cards or letters. But Cody . . . he's different. Judge, I've got to get him." His tone changed to one of the utmost seriousness. "I can't leave him running around loose after what he did. And I want us to be the ones who bring him back in."

The judge took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I know Flip meant a lot to you--"

"He was my best friend until he died. I need to nail Cody again."

"Well, I can understand that, and I'd kinda like to have a hand in hauling that slimeball back, too." Hardcastle rubbed at his nose thoughtfully. "Let's wait for Frank to call and I'll push at him a little to let us in on this. In fact, I'll push on him a lot. Okay?"

"Thanks, Judge. Hey, you want some of that tuna on wheat toast for lunch?" Mark stood, rubbed his face with his hands.

Hardcastle nodded. "Yeah, if you're offering to fix, that'd be fine."

ooooo

"I figured you wouldn't start that pacing again for another hour or so," said Hardcastle without looking up from the game on TV. "We got a bag of peanuts in the cabinet if you want 'em."

McCormick shook his head. "Food's not gonna work this time, Judge. I just feel so . . . antsy, so all worked up and nowhere to go and nothing to do to get it out of my system."

"I know." The judge sighed and rubbed a hand across his hair. "Neither one of us is used to just sitting around waiting for the cops to handle everything. But Frank's being real stubborn about this one." He squinted out the window for a moment. "It's almost like he doesn't trust us with Cody. You know, to bring him in without shoving him down a coupla flights of stairs first."

"Frank knows us better than that. Doesn't he?" Mark turned to look at the older man.

Hardcastle shrugged. "I'd'a thought so. But then he's also a little worried that Cody might be coming after us, so I guess he thinks it's a good idea to baby-sit us for a while longer. You wanna check on the guys out front, see if they need some more coffee or anything?"

McCormick nodded. "Yeah, I'll ask. But I'm going for a drive." He held up a hand to forestall the argument he saw coming. "I know what Frank said about staying put, but I need to get out for a while, okay? Just to think about things and . . . I don't know, get away for a little while. You understand that, right? Just to be by myself and remember stuff and get my head straight."

"Yeah, I know what you mean." Hardcastle sighed again. "Driving does that for you. For me, it's walking on the beach. I might just take a little stroll down the coast while you're gone. 'Course," he jerked a thumb toward the front window, "the boys in blue aren't gonna be real happy with us."

"So, you don't tell 'em. You sneak out the back and use the fire trail to the beach stairs." Mark smiled at him wryly. "I've got the fun part. The Coyote's right out front, so I'll have to take the truck and you know they'll hear it starting up."

The judge turned off the television and rose from the sofa. "Tell ya what. I'll distract 'em with coffee and give you a chance to hop in and get going. Just don't be gone too long, you hear? If Frank comes up with something, I'm not gonna hang around waiting for you to show up."

"Half an hour, tops," Mark promised. "And that gives you time to get down to Lookout Point and back. You want to synchronize our watches?" he added with a grin.

ooooo

"Okay, that's where the Coyote is. See it? Right in the driveway, in front of the house." Morgan handed the binoculars to Cody, then pointed south toward Gull's Way. "There's a gate in front that's probably locked at night and I'm betting there's a real pro security system, so we need to get in sometime before dark, without those cops seeing us, and hope we can get out again before anybody spots us and hauls out the heavy artillery. So what's your plan?" he finished up with a sarcastic smile.

Cody ignored him and concentrated on the layout of the estate to the south of the rocky promontory they'd found.

"So, we just waltz in and grab the car, huh? Is that it, mastermind?" gibed Morgan.

"I thought you were in charge from now on," replied Cody calmly, turning away slightly.

"I am, and I say getting the car is your problem. I'm giving you until tomorrow morning, got that?" Morgan reached for Cody's shoulder, but the other man pulled away, turning as he did to reveal the pistol he'd taken out.

"I think this puts me back in charge, Joey, old pal." He sneered at the astonished expression on Morgan's face. "You really believe you can out-think me, Joey? You moron! We're doing this the way I want, and this--" he hefted the pistol slightly, "is the reason why. I'm not leaving here until I pay back those two for what they did to me, you understand that? I've been through hell because of them, now it's their turn and if you don't like it, you can take a hike right now! For me, it's always been about the revenge, not the damned car or just getting out of the country. I want to take some special memories away with me, some payback, you got it?"

"You slimy bastard. You owe me . . . not just the money but for the jail time and the chance I took fixing your way out." Morgan waved toward the estate. "I'm not taking that kind of risk for your stupid revenge, but I'm not leaving without my money, either."

Cody grinned at him in a patronizing manner. "Now, Joey," he said unctuously, "didn't I pay for the best lawyer in town for you? Didn't I always keep my promises to you before? You got top dollar from me, just for driving a hot rod around!" His condescending grin changed to an angry grimace. "You'll get your damned money, you insignificant little fool. But don't ever forget who I am, and what you are."

Morgan slowly backed up a pace, his hands in the air. "Now, listen. I'm just asking for what you owe me. I mean, yeah, sure, you've had some good plans in the past, but--"

"And I'm going make this work, too, Joey!" A gleam had appeared in Cody's eyes, and he was smiling confidently now. "But we do it like I've planned with no more lip from you, and no more threats. I've waited years for this and no punk like you is going to stop me. The only thing I need you for now is to drive that car to Mexico."

"Okay, okay." Morgan nodded. "We stick to your plan. We grab the car and hightail it to the border. You know I can drive anything with four wheels." A crafty smile appeared on his face. "You know, Cody, you need me to get you to Mexico, don't you? So you can't just get rid of me." He lowered his hands a trifle. "You can't drive that thing. You don't even know what a double clutch is. That's why you got in touch with me in the first place, isn't it? It's not like we were old pals or anything."

Cody shook his head. "I don't need you for anything. You're disposable, Joey."

"You do need me. You can't steal the car and then push it to Mexico. I've gotta drive the car for you." Morgan lowered his hands completely. "And I'm gonna bet you don't have the guts to pull that trigger. Do you? Do you, Cody?" He took a small, calculated step toward the other man, eying him cautiously.

Cody lifted the pistol, aiming it directly at Morgan's nose. "Don't count on it, Joey. You've never--" he broke off as he took a step back and the rock crumbled beneath his foot.

Morgan reached for the gun, wrenching it from Cody's grasp and then grabbing him by the shirtfront. "You son of a bitch," he spat, "you threaten me?!" He swung at Cody, knocking him down onto the rocky surface of the hill.

"You filthy animal!" Cody wiped blood from his lip, smoldering with hatred. "How dare you--"

"You know, that felt real good, Cody." Morgan grinned at the man on the ground in front of him and lifted him up again, only to swing again and laugh as Cody fell, hard, onto the rocks. "Real good."

Cody lifted a feeble hand, swiping ineffectually at his bleeding nose, then extended it and quavered, "Joey, you can't do this! I'm --"

Morgan hoisted him once more and once more his fist slammed into Cody's face. "I think that reinforces the lesson, Cody. You don't mess with me. You got that?" He pushed the limp figure down onto the rocks and sucked on a split knuckle, examined it and cursed idly. Looking down at Cody, it was only at that moment that he noticed the dark red stain spreading quickly from the prone man's head.

ooooo

"Somebody spotted the vultures and called it in to the Highway Patrol. They sent a car up and found him." The officer at the scene tilted his head toward the corpse on the ground.

Lieutenant Harper knelt down and examined the body closely without touching it. "It's Cody all right. And somebody smacked him around before he died." He got up, dusting off the knees of his pants. "Thanks for giving me a call, Roberts. You know I'm not really involved in this? Not my department. Until now anyway. But I appreciate the head's-up. I owe you one."

Roberts studied the tip of his left shoe. "So, you planning to pay a visit to a certain retired friend of ours? Let him know what's going on? Kind of a strange coincidence, the estate being just over there." He pointed to the south, across a ravine, to where the patrol car windshield in the Gull's Way drive reflected the sun.

"Yeah," sighed Frank. "I just hope this doesn't complicate things. Oh well, at least they've got alibis."

ooooo

Harper's car pulled up to a stop right next to the patrol car just as the truck pulled down the drive and stopped in front of the gatehouse.

McCormick jumped out of the truck, slammed the door, and hustled over to the main house. "Frank," he called, "you got anything?"

The lieutenant gave him a strange look then shook his head in answer. "I thought you were gonna stay put 'til we found Cody."

Mark shrugged as they walked up the sidewalk past the sheepish officers leaning against the patrol car. "I couldn't just sit here any more. I just went up the coast to Leo Carillo and back."

"You went to a state park?" asked Frank as he pulled open the screen door. "We're looking for a guy on the loose who wants to hand you your head and you drove up to a state park?"

"I didn't even get out of the truck," soothed McCormick. "Look, all right, I shoulda stuck here, but I needed to drive someplace. You know me, Frank. It helps clear things up if I can sit behind a steering wheel." He glanced around, then lifted his voice. "Hey, Hardcase!"

The two men heard the slam of the back door and a shouted answer, "Be right there!"

Hardcastle came trotting through the kitchen door, slightly out of breath, and stopped abruptly when he saw Harper, standing with his hands in his pockets and a grim expression on his face.

"Frank! You, ah, been here long? I was just --" the judge looked back over his shoulder, "ah, out back. Any news on Cody? Any good leads?" He took a couple of deep breaths, then led way the way to the den.

"You two," Harper's tone was clearly disgusted, but also unhappy. "Where were you, Milt? You go to another state park?"

"Huh?" A glance at McCormick, who spread his hands in surrender, answered that question for the judge. "Well," Hardcastle dropped into the chair behind his desk, "I went for a walk, okay? We were both getting a little crazy being shut up here, not knowing what's going on, so McCormick went for a drive and I took a walk. What's the big deal, anyway, Frank? You know we're not crazy about this police protection in the first place. And nothing happened, so what's your beef?" The judge glared at the lieutenant, who glared right back.

Harper lowered himself into a chair, eyes closed, and ran a hand over his balding pate. "I'm tired," he said. "I'm overworked, discouraged, and disgruntled. Especially," he opened his eyes and glared at the other two men, "by friends of mine who figure they can do what they damn well please!"

Hardcastle and McCormick shared glances and abashed shrugs, then sat in their accustomed places.

Frank sighed deeply, then added, "Cody's been found. Dead."

After a few moments of silence, "When?" asked McCormick simply. "Where?" His expression was calm, but tense.

"About a quarter mile from here, on the point of land up there," Frank waved a hand to the north. "He got battered some and the major injury came from a rock to the back of the head."

"He was coming here, then." The judge ran a musing finger across the bridge of his nose. "You can see the place pretty good from there. You think he was scoping out how to get in?"

Harper nodded. "That's what I figure, but it's not my case, Milt. I'm just here to withdraw your 'protection'." He scowled at the window and the squad car beyond it. "Fat lotta good they did. Do you two realize you're the only people in this area that have any connection at all with Cody? Which means you might be considered suspects. Unless," he asked hopefully, "you have alibis for the time you were gone. Either of you see anybody, speak to anybody?"

The other two men looked at each other, then Hardcastle shook his head in negation and spoke. "I went down the beach in that direction, but didn't see anybody close enough for them to ID me."

"And I just drove up to Carillo and back, didn't stop at all. I went past the point both ways, but didn't see a thing there," added Mark.

"Well, it would've been nice, but you don't see a lotta nice in this business." Frank pushed himself up from the chair, slowly. "I've gotta get back, guys. Could you both, please, as a favor to me, stay here until we get the prelim medical report? And I'll see what I can do about getting you the info when we have it." He held up a hand, palm out. "But remember, I'm not assigned to this one and I probably won't be."

Hardcastle nodded. "We'll be here." After a short pause, he added, "Let us know what you can, when you can."

Frank nodded back, and left. They could hear him saying a few choice words to the officers out front, then the sound of two cars pulling away down the driveway.

A heavy silence fell.

"So," said Mark finally, "Cody's dead."

"Yeah, and Frank thinks we might be suspects. Well, he's right; that's the way cops think," said Hardcastle ruminatively. "Still . . . Sounds like it mighta been spur of the moment, you know, Cody said something and the guy with him lost his temper and slugged him. Maybe hit him too hard or something, didn't mean to kill him or anything. You might even get accidental death or manslaughter instead of murder two."

"I might? Is this your cunning way of asking me if I did it?" McCormick looked at the judge steadily.

Hardcastle harrumphed and shifted in his chair. "Naw, I know you didn't do it." He waited just a moment, and then added, "Did you?"

"No, I didn't," said Mark flatly. "Did you?"

"Me? 'Course not!" The judge pushed back his chair from the desk and laced his hands together over his stomach. "It is a little . . . inconvenient, though, that we both got the itchies right then." He looked off through the window. "Wonder who we'll get on the case."

McCormick shook his head. "Maybe we'll be lucky and it'll be Frank after all. It might be a long night if we're waiting for the medical report. Then Frank or somebody else'll be back with a lot more questions. I'll go put a meatloaf or something in the oven." He walked slowly up the steps to the hallway, then paused and looked over his shoulder. He hesitated, then said, "You do believe me, right?"

"Wouldya get the meatloaf going and stop being stupid?" Hardcastle waved an irritated hand.

Mark nodded and left.

ooooo

Dinner was a quiet meal. Afterward, McCormick puttered around the garage, while Hardcastle read an article on fly-fishing in the sports section of the paper, then sorted through his tackle box looking for a green hackle.

Just before eight o'clock, Mark peered around the den doorframe to ask, "Anything from Frank?"

Hardcastle looked up. "Not yet." He gestured toward the television set. "There's a pretty decent movie on in a coupla minutes, Buck and the Preacher, you ever see it?"

McCormick shook his head. "Not that I remember. If you want to watch it, go ahead. I might stay for a bit." He slouched moodily down the steps.

"You're kinda grouchy, aren't ya? How come?" The judge shifted from behind the desk to his 'TV chair'. "You bent outta shape 'cause it's all over and you didn't get a chance to be in on it?"

"Nah. I guess it just seems so . . ." Mark settled onto the couch, "so unreal somehow."

"Yeah, I think I know what you mean. We weren't even really involved in it at all, except hearing about it. Maybe we're just not used to being on the sidelines."

"That's part of it, I guess." McCormick lifted his feet to rest them on the coffee table. "But it's also the weird coincidences -- that there he was, over on the point, and there we were, both of us out of the house, alone."

Hardcastle swiped at his chin in a thoughtful manner. "Yeah, it is kinda strange. But not as strange as all that. He was probably there scoping the place out, trying to figure how to get in." He rested his arms on the desktop, pursing his lips. "It's just bad luck that we didn't have alibis for it, but . . . ah, pretty soon they'll get the guy that did it and we can forget about it."

At that moment, the phone rang, and the judge moved quickly to answer it. "Yeah! Hello!"

McCormick could hear a faint quacking noise that sounded vaguely like Frank, and went over to the desk to hear better.

Hardcastle held the receiver from his ear, and they both heard, "So much for seniority."

"Yeah, well, you knew they'd never let you take this one on, Frank." The judge shrugged at McCormick, who shrugged back. "Being as we're friends, and all."

"But the news gets even better, Milt," said the tinny voice. "Corlin's on his way out there right now to talk to you both, as 'persons of interest'. I thought I'd better let you know."

The judge put a hand over his eyes. "Did the Commissioner by any chance have anything to do with this?"

There was a muted chuckle from the phone. "Now how in the world did you know that? Look, I gotta run. Let me know how it goes, okay?"

"Yeah, Frank," sighed Hardcastle. "Thanks." He hung up the phone and wearily rubbed his eyes.

"Let me guess," Mark rested a hip on the edge of the desk. "Corlin's one of those rare people in the department who's not a Lone Ranger fan."

"You could say that." The judge rested his chin on a palm and regarded the younger man seriously. "He's also not a fan of live-in parolees." He raised his brows suggestively.

"Well, that's okay," laughed McCormick, "'cause my parole was up months ago."

ooooo

Lieutenant Corlin was a short, stubby man, with a greying crew-cut and a chip on his shoulder the size of the Queen Mary. "Before we start, do either of you want counsel present?" he growled as soon as he'd walked through the front door. "I'm having Sergeant Foster take notes," he jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the sergeant, who rolled his eyes then grinned over his superior's shoulder.

"Nah, I don't think so. Hiya, Marty," Hardcastle waved to the sergeant. "I can function as McCormick's attorney and if I forget something 'cause I'm getting senile, he can act as my counsel." In response to the lieutenant's astonished expression, he added, "He's getting his law degree in a little over a year."

"That's fine, then," said Corlin in a falsely jovial tone, recovering quickly. "There are just a few questions I need answered, from both of you. I thought it'd save some time to take you together."

Two nods greeted that opinion.

"So, McCormick," Corlin seated himself in the chair Mark was accustomed to use, and faced him sternly, "you were near the scene of the crime at the time we estimate it to have taken place."

Mark stood silently.

"Well?" barked Corlin.

"Oh, sorry," smiled Mark. "I was waiting for a question. Did you want me to respond to that statement?" He ignored the growls from the lieutenant and the former judge and continued, "I don't know if I was or not since I don't know your estimated time. I did pass Lookout Point, northbound, at approximately 3:15 p.m. and again southbound at approximately 3:50."

"Hmm," the lieutenant was noncommittal. "And you, Judge? You walked in that direction from here, and we figured you could make it there and back in less than an hour. You admitted to leaving the house around 3:15, yes?"

Hardcastle shifted testily in his desk chair. "I didn't admit anything. I stated it."

"Hmm," Corlin repeated himself. "It's my understanding that Lieutenant Harper saw no signs of blood on either of you when he arrived here after examining the crime scene." As the interrogatees shared questioning glances, the lieutenant lowered his head as if in thought, then jerked it up suddenly and shot out, "Were you aware that the deceased had been struck in the face with enough force to draw blood?"

The two looked at each other, then the judge spoke. "Yeah, Harper told us that. You wanna run our hands under a 'scope, Corlin?" He held his out and McCormick then followed suit.

Corlin ignored them and checked a notepad he held in his hand. "What blood type are you, Judge Hardcastle?"

"You haven't laid any foundation for that question," responded the judge, rubbing his chin meditatively. "But this isn't a courtroom, so I'll answer it. I'm O positive."

"And you, McCormick?" Corlin was writing on his notepad, but looked up for Mark's answer.

"I'm guessing you found traces of the assailant's blood on Cody, right? You've got it typed and you're looking for a match." McCormick folded his arms across his chest. "I'm B positive. Does either of us win the prize?"

"A trace of B positive was found on deceased," replied Corlin briefly, with a tiny satisfied smile. "His own blood type was O positive."

Mark nodded. "B positive is fairly uncommon, but not rare. We make up almost ten percent of the population, did you know that?" He beamed at the lieutenant.

Corlin looked back at him with hard eyes and a scowl. "Did you have any grudge against the deceased?" he asked.

"Hang on there a minute," Hardcastle raised a hand. "That question was a little accusatory, don't you think? Maybe you shoulda started with 'did you know deceased,' then 'did you have a reason to dislike deceased,' -- you know, kinda lead up to it a little."

McCormick waved off the judge's assistance and stared directly at Corlin. "Yes, I had a grudge against Cody. And before you can 'lead up to' did I kill him, the answer's no."

Unfazed, Corlin turned to Hardcastle. "You want to answer the same question? Or," his voice turned sarcastic, "should I re-phrase it for you and lead up to it, gently?"

"I'll answer the question of whether I killed him. I didn't. But," the judge rested an arm on the edge of his desk and wagged an admonitory finger at Corlin, "you shoulda asked me about a motive that might explain my blood ending up on him. I mighta had a pretty good one."

All three other men looked at him in surprise and the lieutenant leaned forward eagerly. "And that would be?"

"I don't think I need to tell you that," said Hardcastle, making a minimal effort to keep the smugness out of his voice. "In fact, it's late and I think the interview's over for tonight. We'll stop by tomorrow morning downtown if you want to have another chat, but we older folks have to get our rest, you know."

McCormick looked over at him quickly, then stood and made shooing motions. "Yeah, it's past the judge's bedtime. Come on, out you go."

With another dirty look, Corlin stood, tucking his notepad back into his jacket pocket. "Fine. I understand how it is with elderly people. We'll see you tomorrow, Judge. And you, McCormick. For a somewhat longer chat."

He stalked from the room, but the sergeant lingered just long enough to shake hands with both men and wink extravagantly. "That was fun," he whispered and ducked up the steps and out the door just as Corlin shouted his name.

As soon as the sound of the car engine had died away, Mark turned to the judge and frowned at him. "You wanna explain what that was about? All the elderly stuff, old people, getting your rest. What is it with this guy Corlin and you?"

"Ah, he made some remarks before I retired about how it was about time, not happening any too soon 'cause I was getting a little strange." Hardcastle pointed a finger to his head and made a circular motion. "You know, getting ga-ga because of my age."

"You? You've got to be kidding me!" Mark settled into 'his' chair leaned back. "Why'd he say that?"

The judge cocked his head and looked off into the distance. "Mighta had something to do with the ruling I made in a case he was on. He's never been a real good cop; he only made lieutenant because his uncle's on the Police Commission. He went overboard with a couple of witnesses, got a little crazy, you know. The prosecution put him on the stand and I mighta made a monkey out of him because of the intimidation stunts he'd pulled. Not a big deal, though. I just tossed out his testimony."

"And the motive you could've had for punching Cody? What was that?"

Hardcastle waved him off. "Just something I thought of a little while ago."

"How 'little' a while ago?" Mark asked, looking a little leery of the answer. "About the time you found out about the blood type?"

"Coulda been about then," admitted the judge. "Look, you told me you didn't do it, and I believe ya, okay? But things might start looking a little hairy if the cops don't come up with a better suspect. You did shoot your mouth off a lot back at Cody's trial. Remember I kept telling ya to keep it buttoned?"

"Yeah, I remember." McCormick sighed. "But most of that was in front of the arresting officers and they're in Nevada."

"Hah! You were yapping about what you'd like to do to the guy in the hallway during his trial! You think word didn't get around? And they didn't know you, then. That was four years ago." Hardcastle swiped a hand across his chin. "You've changed since then."

"Not that much," muttered McCormick. "If I'd had the chance, I might've bashed his face in, Judge."

"Yeah, but that's all you'd do." The judge eyed him for a moment. "Right?"

Mark meditated a moment, then nodded. "Yeah."

"See, I know you. Now, go get some popcorn while I find the right channel for that movie."

ooooo

"You know, being warned that I might get arrested is not something I want to hear over my corn flakes, Judge."

"Well, if you'd gotten up earlier, you'd've found out while you were doing the dishes. Would that have been better?" Hardcastle carefully cut out a fifty-cents-off coupon from the newspaper. "There. Put that in the drawer."

"Sun-dried tomatoes? We don't use those." Mark shrugged and put the coupon in the drawer with the rest of them. "I know, it was nice of Frank to let us know about the possible warrant being drawn up, but there isn't enough evidence for it. Corlin's just on a fishing expedition this afternoon."

"Sure. He's hoping to catch a break, or maybe you'll say something stupid, and he'll be ready." The judge finished his coffee and handed over the mug to be rinsed out. "Bound to be a lot of disappointment in that man's life."

McCormick smiled at that. "I hope he gets another dose this afternoon."

Hardcastle grunted, and reached for the scissors again. "You let me do most of the talking today, you hear? The guy's trying to get to me and you're just the avenue with the most parking spots available."

Mark turned to him, an appreciative smile on his face. "That has to be the best metaphor you've ever used! You spend a lotta time thinking that one up overnight?"

"Nah," the judge couldn't keep his own grin from forming. "I can come up with them like that." He snapped his fingers.

ooooo

Corlin pasted on a false smile and indicated the two wooden chairs in front of his desk. "Please, sit down."

"First off, we're not here to be interrogated, make a statement, or sign any affidavits." Hardcastle sat down and stuck out his chin belligerently. "We're here as good citizens, as the guys who rounded up Cody in the first place, and as possible targets for him once he broke prison." He shifted his weight uncomfortably. "So if you've got questions, we might answer them, and we might have information that would help you investigate Cody's death. But we're under no obligation to be here in the first place. Understood?"

"That's fine, Mr. Hardcastle," Corlin made sure they both noticed his deliberate non-use of the title 'judge'. "There's no reason to be antagonistic. I'm sure we all just want to get at the truth, right? I'll just turn on the tape recorder, if there are no objections." The other men shook their heads, so Corlin continued, shooting a look at Mark, "Now, I have here a copy of your statement at the time of Cody's arrest, McCormick. In it, you state that you had a grievance against Cody which --"

The judge shook his head in a pitying manner and held up a palm. "There's no grounds for past statements to be introduced at this point--"

Corlin interrupted him right back. "This isn't a courtroom, it's a preliminary investigation and I'll ask any damned pertinent questions I feel like it," he snarled. "It's my job, Judge Hardcastle, and I don't have to establish any relevancy or introduce any evidence."

"And we don't have to answer any of your 'damned pertinent questions', either," Hardcastle shot back at him. "We're not under arrest and we haven't been served with any material witness warrants. So back off, and lay your ground and we might feel like cooperating."

"The fact is," said Corlin in a menacing tone, "your ex-con there," he jabbed a thumb toward Mark, "had a motive, he had the means, and he probably had the opportunity, too."

"The fact is," replied the judge angrily, "you've had a grudge against me for years now and you think you're gonna railroad McCormick to get your revenge on me."

Corlin stood abruptly and leaned on his desk, sneering. "I don't think 'railroading' will be necessary. You and your little pal here have been getting away with this vigilante stuff for too long and I think it went to his head. I think he saw Cody on that point and figured it was just another chance to 'hunt 'em and hang 'em'. And we'll get the proof we need, don't you worry about that. We've got guys out there now checking the tire tracks in the area, and we're hoping for a tissue sample once the M.E. gets done, so it's only a matter of time before we put a stop to your little hobby." He invested the word with all the scorn at his command.

"A-hum!" Mark cleared his throat loudly. "I said I'd answer your questions, Lieutenant, but if you and the judge would rather have your little party without me, that's okay. I'll just go get some coffee and visit with the guys out front." He gave Corlin an angelic smile.

Abruptly, the office door opened halfway, Frank Harper pushed his head in partway and spoke. "We just caught Joey Morgan and he's confessed to the whole thing. Thought you'd wanta know." He smiled benevolently around the room and withdrew.

McCormick was first on his feet. "I'll get him." He was back within seconds, ushering the lieutenant in, saying, "You know better than that. Now siddown and talk." He pointed to a chair off to the side.

Frank grinned at him and sat. "We got lucky. You know Morgan was a stunt driver, connected with Cody, right? He got a few years in Tehachapi – just got out a coupla months ago."

Hardcastle nodded. "Yeah, I knew he was out. Thought he was keeping his nose clean, getting back in the stunt business."

"Nope. Got some work," Frank slouched against the back of his chair, "but not enough, it seems. Then he got a message through somebody that Cody wanted his help breaking out. Things turned kinda sour after that when Cody told him he didn't have the dough, and needed to steal the Coyote to get it."

McCormick sat up straighter. "That's what Cody was doing on the point? Scoping out the Coyote?"

"Yep. He and Morgan were both there, they started to mix it up a little, Morgan popped him a coupla times, and Cody hit his head on the rocks when he fell." Harper shoved his hands into his pockets and studied his shoetips. "Morgan panicked and took off. This morning he got one of his stunt cars off a studio lot and tried to break through the border. Darn near did, too. He woulda made it if they hadn't thrown down some spike strips just before the Mexico side."

"He had the wrong car," said Mark.

"Had the wrong driver, more like," muttered the judge.

Frank sat up and shrugged. "Whatever. He's come clean about the whole thing and it looks to me like a manslaughter charge. By the way," he shot a look at the unhappy Corlin across the desk, "he's got type B Positive blood, too. So," Harper stood, shot his sleeves down, adjusted his jacket, and started for the door, "you guys can head home, I guess. Case closed, right, Corlin?"

The judge tilted his head back to look down his nose at Corlin. "Yeah, we'll probably head home and start checking out the next file to work on."

McCormick smothered a grin and courteously told Corlin, "See ya," before following Hardcastle out.

ooooo

"Hey, remind me to pick up another fan belt this weekend, okay?" McCormick swung onto the freeway headed north. "You know, when I go in for the plugs?"

Hardcastle nodded and tilted his Stars cap so he could lean his head back against the headrest.

After a few miles of silence, Mark spoke again. "This has all been kinda weird, you know? I mean, Cody stalking us for the car and Morgan trying to crash the border." He checked his rearview mirror and pressed a little harder on the accelerator. "And it's hard to really believe Cody's dead. Somehow, I always figured I'd see the guy again, know what I mean? That I'd get the chance to tell him what I thought of him or something. I dunno."

"Yeah, I know. You never see something like this coming. You got it in your mind you'll get a chance to have one last go at the guy, even if it's just to tell him you wouldn't touch a slimeball like him with a ten-foot pole." Hardcastle sniffed. "And that's all you'd'a done, too. You wouldn't even have swung on him."

"Yeah, hey, that reminds me." McCormick slowed fractionally for the curve then picked up speed again. "You never said what your motive would've been. If they'd found your blood on Cody, I mean." He sent a brief, questioning look at his passenger.

"Ah, you probably already figured it out. It's not like it's some big secret or anything." The older man closed his eyes, and clasped his hands comfortably over his stomach.

Mark cocked his head and smiled. "Well, what I thought is if you'd come across Cody out there something could've happened, maybe a little of the old Hardcastle yelling and some of your patented 'round up the bad guy' stuff. Without your back-up, because you were afraid if you came back to get me I'd get into it with Cody and you wanted to keep me from ending up back in the concrete camp. I was thinking about it last night and you've actually killed two guys who had me in their sights."

"So you figured I'd pop Cody so you wouldn't, huh?"

McCormick shrugged and eased up on the accelerator a bit. "Not kill him, not in cold blood. I thought you mighta punched him a coupla times and knowing the way you punch . . ." He rubbed his jaw reflectively.

"Well, I mighta," said the judge, without opening his eyes, "But then again, the way I see it, I maybe owed the guy a favor."

"A favor, huh?" McCormick flipped on his left turn signal and slowed down to turn into the estate entrance. As they passed under the archway, he said, "Well, I didn't feel like I owed him a favor, but I think I am glad I never saw him again."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. I think." The judge pointed casually at the basketball court as the Coyote passed the gatehouse. "Hey, how about giving me a rematch this afternoon? Let me get my revenge for this morning?"

McCormick shook his head with a wry smile. "I think there's been too much revenge going on lately."

Hardcastle grunted and nodded "Yeah," he said, "you're probably right."

finis