Richard Stark - The Jugger

Over there on the phone, Younger was saying, “I’ll be right there. And leave the state boys out of this one, we’ll do it ourselves.”

Parker lit a cigarette and shifted forward on the sofa so he could get to his feet faster if he had to.

Younger hung up the phone and turned to look at Parker. He was frowning again, looking baffled. “All right,” he said. “Maybe you’re right.”

“Right about what?”

“Things I don’t know, things I got to find out.”

Parker watched him, wondering what had happened to change Younger this way.

Younger said, “They just found your partner clubbed to death, it looks like with a shovel.” He nodded. “In your hotel room,” he said.

“ My room?”

“That’s what I say.” Younger looked down at the gun in his hand as though he’d never seen it before. He shook his head and tucked the gun away inside his coat. “Come on. Let’s go see him.”

The room was full of law. Apparently somebody on Younger’s force had invited the state police to attend after all; the pack of technical men, with their cameras and chalk, powders and notebooks and little white envelopes, all seemed too professional, too sleek, too quiet and efficient to be any part of the local law.

The local law was three dough-faced farm hands in rumpled blue uniforms, standing around the room looking for traffic to direct.

Parker stood there near the door and watched. When they’d come in, Younger had looked at the pros at work, had cursed under his breath, and had told Parker, “You wait right there. Don’t talk to nobody.” Now he was across the room talking to the guy who must be in charge of the state men: a tall, straight, strong-looking guy with a grey crewcut and a professor’s face.

Parker watched and waited. From where he was standing, he could see Tiftus on the floor next to the bed. He wasn’t much to look at. He’d been turned away, so the shovel — or whatever the guy had used — had hit him on the back of the head, cracking his skull like so many pieces of egg shell. He’d fallen on his face, blood and hair had mixed together to make a little thatched roof on the back of his head, and he’d died.

The technicians worked around him now as though they expected to launch him into space.

Across the room, Younger wasn’t being happy. He was trying to argue, but he wasn’t winning. The state man was being polite but firm, and Parker could see that Younger didn’t stand a chance.

Younger saw it too, after a while, and gave up. He came back over to Parker and said, “We got to talk.”

“We do?”

“Out in the hall.”

Parker knew it was a dumb move, but this was Younger’s party right now. He followed Younger out to the hall, feeling the state man’s eyes on his back all the way.

In the hall, down a way from the door, Younger turned and, standing close to the wall, said, “You’re in the clear on killing him.”

“And?”

“With me,” Younger said, “ I know you’re in the clear. They don’t.”

“Why not?”

Younger was taking some satisfaction from this exchange, evening the score for losing with the state man. He took his time. “They know when he was killed. Within half an hour they know it. I was already with you then. I’m your alibi.”

Parker said, “And I’m yours.”

Younger was surprised. “Mine? What the hell do I need with an alibi?”

“You’re looking for something, and so was Tiftus.”

“And so are you, God damn it.”

Parker shrugged.

Younger said, “We don’t have much time, Willis, don’t waste it with a lot of crap. I’m your alibi, that’s the point, I’m your alibi if I want to be. If I don’t want to be, you’ve had it.”

“You didn’t say anything yet?”

“Not a word. Regan, the guy I was talking to, he wants to ask you some questions.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s your room. Because you’re a stranger here and so is that guy whatchamacallim, and because you knew each other.”

Parker nodded. “So you want to deal.”

“Partners,” Younger told him. “Fifty-fifty split, all the way.”

“I don’t know where the stuff is.”

“So we’ll both look for it, we’ll team up.” Younger jabbed a thumb at the room they’d just left. “Somebody killed him,” he said. “It wasn’t you and it wasn’t me. So there’s somebody else in this. We got to stick together for our own good.”

The best thing now was to ride along with Younger and look for a chance to get the edge. Parker said, “It’s a deal.”

Younger seemed relieved. “That’s good,” he said. “We still got to let Regan talk to you, but don’t worry, I’ll be right there with you.”

Parker wasn’t worried. He said, “Afterwards, I want to get out of the hotel.”

Younger was suddenly suspicious. “Why? Where you want to go?”

“Back to Joe’s house.”

“We look together , Willis.”

“Not to look, to live. To stay.”

“Why?”

“There’s no cops there.”

Younger said, “You don’t figure to skip, do you?”

“And leave it all for you?”

It was the right thing to say. Younger nodded and said, “All right, then. We’ll go back together. I’ll tell you one thing, I don’t think it’s in the house. I been through that house, and I don’t think it’s there. I didn’t dig in the cellar, but I looked around there and I didn’t see any sign he’d been digging, and I would have. He hid it good, the old bastard.” Younger shook his head, and then smiled. “But we’ll find it, won’t we?”

“Sure.”

It made Younger happy to think so. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go talk to Regan.”

Sitting in front of the desk, Parker smoked a cigarette and waited for Regan to come back. Behind him, Younger paced back and forth, back and forth, puffing on a cigar and muttering to himself.

They were in the hotel manager’s office; Regan had commandeered it for his interviews. He had phoned the manager from Parker’s room and then had escorted Parker and Younger down in the elevator. It was clear he didn’t have any use for Younger; he treated Younger with the curt, polite contempt of a professional forced to deal with an incompetent in the same profession. It was also clear he didn’t yet know what to make of Parker, and was waiting to learn more.

Once in the manager’s office, Regan remembered something else he had to do, excused himself, and left Younger and Parker alone. Parker said to Younger, “Could this place be bugged?”

“What? Of course not.”

Parker shook his head. He couldn’t figure out what Regan was up to. He had to know Parker and Younger had already talked together in the hall, and he had to know they’d arrived at the room together in the first place. So what was Regan up to?

Given his choice, Parker would have sided with Regan against Younger rather than the other way around. Given his choice, Parker would have picked almost anyone for a partner instead of Younger; even Tiftus. But he didn’t have a choice, so he had to do the best he could with what he had.

He said, “Don’t talk too much when he’s asking me questions. Let me answer myself.”

“You don’t have to worry about me,” Younger said. He was offended.

“Yes I do. You don’t talk unless Regan asks you a direct question, and then all you do is answer it.”

“I’ll take care of myself, Willis. You just take care of you.” Younger was really hot under the collar. He stalked back and forth and blew cigar smoke everywhere.

Parker stopped. He didn’t want Younger lousing things up for spite, and he was just dumb enough to do it if he was pushed hard enough.