Richard Stark - The Jugger

When the knock came at the door, Parker was just turning to the obituary page. He put the paper down and looked around the room, and everything was clean and ordinary. He walked over and opened the door.

The little guy standing there was dressed like he was kidding around. Dark green trousers, black-and-white shoes, orange shirt with black string tie, tweed sport jacket with leather elbow patches. The fluffy corners of a lavender handkerchief peeped up from his jacket pocket. His left hand was negligently tucked into his trouser pocket, and his right hand was stuck inside his jacket like an imitation of Napoleon. He had the lined and leathery weasel face of an alky or a tout, and he was both. He was somewhere past forty, short of eighty.

He grinned, showing big bad teeth, and said, Parker, youre an ugly man. Youre uglier with the new face, and thats a wonder.

Parker recognized him. His name was Tiftus and he claimed to be a lock man. Parker had never worked with him because he was too unreliable.

Tiftus grinned some more and said, Invite me in, why dont you? Weve got talk to do.

It couldnt be coincidence; this had to be something to do with Joe Sheer. But Parker, to make sure, said, About what? What talk would we have?

Not in the hall, Parker. Wheres your manners?

Go to hell.

Tiftus kept on grinning. He shook his head and withdrew his right hand from his jacket far enough for Parker to see the silver sparkle of a Hi-Standard .25-caliber automatic. Be nice, he said. We have a nice talk about old times. And old friends.

So it was about Joe. Parker stepped back and motioned for Tiftus to come in. Smug as a peacock, Tiftus stepped over the threshold and into Parkers right hand. Parker chopped him midway between belt buckle and automatic, and Tiftus face turned from tan leather to grey elephant skin. Parker plucked the automatic from his hand, yanked him farther into the room, and shut the door.

Tiftus was making a sound in his throat like an air-raid siren heard from far away. Parker pushed him into the rooms one armchair, and went over to the window to look out. Captain Younger was still down there under his cowboy hat, leaning against the fender of his black Ford in the September sunlight. Across the way was the railroad station. Sagamore, Nebraska. The few cars going by on the main street were dusty in the sunlight.

No one else seemed to be hanging around, not outside. If Tiftus had anyone with him, they were either in the lobby downstairs or waiting for him out of sight somewhere.

Parker put the little automatic in the drawer of the writing table and looked over at Tiftus, but he was still sitting ramrod-straight in the chair, forearms clamped to his belly, the air-raid siren still keening far away in the back of his throat.

Parker took the time to finish looking at the paper. Hed already opened it to the obituaries. He looked down the list, and found it, under Joes alias:

SHARDIN Joseph T., Sept. 17, no living relations. Funeral Wednesday 10 a.m. Bernard Gliffe Funeral Chapel, Interment Greenlawn Cemetery.

Wednesday; today. Ten a.m. He looked at his watch, and it was after eleven now, so the funeral was probably over. It wouldnt have taken long, with nobody there who knew Joe.

He turned back to the first page and went through the paper completely, reading all the headlines, looking for some reference to the way Joe died, but there was no mention of Joe at all except the obituary notice. The notice didnt say what Joe died of.

There was a photo on page seven of Captain Abner L. Younger and three other stocky types at a Safety First Conference, figuring out how to keep the schoolchildren from being killed by bad drivers. The cowboy hat made it tough to see Youngers eyes.

Parker closed the paper finally and went over to stand in front of Tiftus, who was now breathing again. Tiftus face had changed color one more time, now being flat white all over except for pained brown eyes and two round red spots of color on leathery cheeks, looking like rouge painted on there to make him look like a clown. He was breathing with his mouth open, and watching Parker with his pained eyes, but he didnt say anything. The bright clothing looked even more out of place than it had before.

Parker said, You want to talk. Talk.

Tiftus moved his lips, but he didnt say anything. Then he closed his mouth, and swallowed noisily, and licked his tongue across his dry lips, and finally he did talk, saying, You didnt have to do that. His voice sounded rusty. I almost threw up, he said. He sounded offended.

Parker said, How old are you, Tiftus? A hundred? You dont know about guns, at your age? Dont ever show a gun to a man you dont want to kill. Youre a moron, Tiftus. Now, what did you want to talk about?

Not with you, you bastard. Parker had hurt his feelings, and he was going to pout.

Parker said, What did Joe die of?

Tiftus seemed honestly surprised; so surprised, anyway, he forgot about pouting. He said, What the hell? How should I know?

Werent you here?

Who, me?

Parker shook his head, irritated. He rapped Tiftus chest with a knuckle, and Tiftus winced. He rapped again and said, Dont ask questions. I ask you a question, what you do next you answer it, you dont ask another question. You ready to try again?

You dont have to do like this, Parker. I just come around here friendly, so I figure we...

With a toy gun.

All right. All right, youre right, I apologize about that. He was recovering at last, coming back up to be the chipper bantam again. I shouldnt have flashed the gun on you that way.

I already knew that. Tell me something I dont know.

Tiftus spread his hands in a gesture of peace. Weve got no reason to fight each other, Parker, he said. Weve never been enemies, never in our lives. Theres never been any bad blood between us at all.

Theres never been anything between us. When did you get to town here?

Just now. What do you think, for Christs sake? Parker, I havent even unpacked yet. I got off the train, I came across the street, I saw you coming into the hotel, I got your room number from the desk clerk, thats all. I got a room, one floor up, left my suitcase there and came right down to see you. Why should we work against each other?

Why should we work with each other?

Tiftus was getting sure of himself again, smug again. Because were both here, he said. Were both after the same thing.

We are? Whats that?

But Tiftus smirked and waggled a finger and got coy. You know as well as I do, Parker. You want to find out how much I know, is that it?

What Parker wanted to find out was what the hell Tiftus thought he was talking about. But he couldnt let Tiftus guess he didnt know, so hed have to fake it and wait for Tiftus to let something slip.

He said, I dont give a damn what you know. I still dont see any reason to put in with you. Id never work with you before this because you cant be counted on, and Im not going to work with you now.

Ah, but this is different, Tiftus said. This time you can count on me. You can count on me to be right here in this monotonous little town right down to the finish. Youre here, and Im here, and neither one of us is leaving. If we fight each other, well just draw attention to ourselves. If we work together, well be done that much sooner.

Parker didnt bother to tell him about Captain Younger, that attention had already been drawn. Instead, he said, What if I told you I dont know what the hell youre talking about?

Tiftus laughed and looked cunning and said, Oh, come on, Parker! What are you doing here, then? I suppose youre here for your health, or you just thought youd come by for Joes funeral, is that it?