Disclaimer: I make no profit from this since these characters are not, and never have been, mine. I would've taken better care of them.

Authors Notes: There ought to be a way to express gratitude that would truly convey a sense of obligation and appreciation. Since I can't think of one, I offer my Muses my humble thanks.

INDIFFERENCE

By Lynn Walker

Judge Hardcastle sighed, then straightened his shoulders, pasted on a smile, and opened the door to the Nancy Hardcastle Memorial Legal Clinic.

"Hiya, Joyce!" he greeted the receptionist with false joviality. "McCormick available?"

"Sorry, Judge Hardcastle, he's registering a client. Want me to buzz him and tell him you're here?" Joyce was the receptionist at the new clinic and a treasure. Professional, hard-working and motherly, she was the perfect person for the job.

"Nah, I'll just wait for him in the coffee room." Hardcastle headed down the corridor toward the "staff lounge", which was merely a room with three chairs, a table and a coffee maker.

But it's functional, thought the Judge, just like everything around here; it's business-like, practical and functional. Gotta hand it to the kid. He got the place up and running in only four months. Course I helped a little with the phone calls and arm-twisting, but he did most of it. Even talked that old idiot Judge Gault into twenty hours a year. I'd forgotten he had legal malpractice experience. Oh, well, maybe I'll have a cookie.

Hardcastle looked at the cookies and then decided he was already eating far too much out of sheer boredom. Frank Harper had taken to hiding his lunch in his desk after only two visits this week.

Sighing again, Judge Hardcastle lowered himself into a chair and thought some more about functionality. McCormick was even wearing "functional" clothes to work. No jeans and t-shirts, but simple shirts and plain slacks. Three-piece suits and ties were out of the question. This was a working clinic and fancy clothes were inappropriate. Of course, that was a good thing. No stupid aquarium in the lobby, no expensive coffee table loaded with picture magazines, no exotic potted plants. Everything was simple, business-like and functional. There was that word again. Maybe it kept recurring since functional was something the Judge wasn't anymore. Another sigh.

Knock it off! he told himself ferociously. This is what the kid wants to do with his life and I'm gonna support him and help make it work. I can feel sorry for myself after I'm dead! With that burst of Hardcastle logic, he fell to brooding again. He'd already organized his sock drawer, tinkered with the truckengine, taken a walk along the beach, visited Frank, shopped forunneeded groceries, and tidied up the kitchen. That had broughthim up to 4 PM and desperation.

Look, McCormick said the first week or two would be long hours just getting everybody used to the system and the kinks worked out. Give the guy a break and take a hike. He's busy and you're . . . not. Get a life, Hardcase! Get a hobby or something, or you're gonna have the kid telling you not to bother him at work anymore.

A familiar voice broke into his thoughts and the Judge got up to peek around the door into the hallway. Mark McCormick, Managing Director of the Nancy Hardcastle Memorial Legal Clinic, was ushering a short, Hispanic-looking man of about sixty over to Joyce's desk. Hardcastle heard him say "I'll be handling Mr. Aguilar's case myself, J. Block out next Monday and see if Harry Wendover can cover for me that day." Leading the Mr. Aguilar to the door, McCormick spoke to him briefly and then headed back inside.

"Mr. McCormick," Joyce said. "Judge Hardcastle's in the staff room waiting for you."

The Judge waved at his friend from the door and McCormick headed back with a smile. "Hey, how long you been here? Why didn't you have J. tell me?"

"I know you're busy. Didn't want to interrupt when you're working. I was just in the area and thought I'd see when you figure you'll get home tonight. I'm planning some steaks on the grill and need to know when to start the charcoal." That was a believable explanation, wasn't it? Or was he already being pathetic?

McCormick perched himself on the table and waved the Judge to a chair. "Actually, I'm probably going to get out of here right at five, for the first time. The guy that just left was my last registrant. Listen, I wanna talk to you about him."

The Judge perked up a bit and nodded. "OK, shoot."

Mark folded his arms and settled back a little on the table. "His name's Luis Aguilar and he was a warehouse foreman out in Oxnard. Mostly large, earth-moving equipment -- you know, road graders, bulldozers. Really expensive stuff. Well, about six weeks ago, the owner decided to sell and he took out a huge loan to buy the place. Since then he's found out why the owner was so anxious to sell. He's had a visitor twice since the first of the month, supposed to be representing an insurance company. This guy wanders in and tells Aguilar how valuable the equipment is and how expensive to replace if there was a fire or something and hints about payments that would keep anything from happening. He refuses to give his name or the insurance company he supposedly works for and Aguilar's getting tired of hearing it. What does that sound like to you?"

Hardcastle snorted and said "Sounds like the boys with the bent noses are up to their old tricks again. Oxnard, you said?"

"Yeah," Mark went on, "So Aguilar heard about this place and came here to ask about a restraining order against the guy. I explained that's not what he thinks it is, and suggested another approach. See, there's a bird sanctuary up near there and I figured we could wander around with a camera or two, some binoculars, and a tape recorder and hope to catch sight of a pair of blue-chinned warblers." He raised his eyebrows at the judge suggestively.

The Judge tried to contain a sudden burst of hope and keep a straight face.

"If you're available this weekend?" added McCormick.

It was no use; the judge had to smile or die. "Yeah, I guess I got a little free time this week-end. Kind of short notice, though." It was hopeless. The smile became a grin. "I shoulda known better. I shoulda knownyou better. Hell, kid, I shoulda trusted you."

"Yes," Mark said with a serious look, "you should have." Then the corners of his mouth started to quirk as he looked at the manically-grinning judge. "What did you think, Hardcase? Did you really think I was going to let you hang up your spurs and

take naps around the pool? We're still a team, you know. This isn't the kind of partnership you can retire from." By now, McCormick was grinning just as widely as the judge.

"Donkey," said McCormick.

"Now yer cookin'!" said Hardcastle.