The Jugger

Younger nodded. 'That makes sense,' he said. 'That isn't a bad idea at all. I could trust you after that.'

'Sure.'

'We'll do it, then,' he said. 'As soon as we get back to town.'

'We can do it in Omaha, at Joe's apartment. The sooner we do it, the better for both of us.'

Younger shrugged. 'Okay, fine. I don't care. Only thing, what about me giving you an alibi?'

'I'll cover it in the note. Say I told you it was earlier than it was, and you didn't have a watch on you, something like that. The whole thing'll be worked out in the note.'

'Good. That's a good idea.'

'For you, too,' Parker told him.

Younger looked startled. He glanced at Parker, and away. 'What do you mean, me, too?'

'You write a note, too.'

'What? That I killed Tiftus? It wouldn't make any sense.'

'No, that you killed Joseph Shardin.'

Younger now looked scared. 'I didn't kill him! What the hell are you talking about, Willis, I didn't kill him!'

'I didn't kill Tiftus,' Parker reminded him. 'That isn't the point. The point is to have something on you, like you'll have on me.'

'But it don't make any sense. How's it gonna look?'

Parker said, 'You write, "I killed Joseph Shardin. I was trying to extort money from him, and I didn't mean to kill him." And you sign your name. No, wait a second. Besides that, you write, "Doctor Rayborn knows all about it." Because he does, doesn't he?'

Younger glowered at the road. 'If that bastard's been opening his mouth-'

'He didn't have to. I haven't seen him since he fixed up my face.'

'I don't like it,' Younger said. 'I didn't kill the old man, why should I say I did?'

Parker told him, 'You'll have my note about killing Tiftus, I'll have your note about killing Joe. That way, we're safe from each other.'

Younger gnawed on his lower lip, and shook his head back and forth. 'I don't like it,' he said. 'I just don't like it.'

Parker sat back in the seat and watched the flat countryside roll by. Flat farmland, not a tree in sight. You could see white farmhouses miles away across the flat fields.

Sitting at the wheel, driving down the straight road, Younger chewed his lip and tried to get used to having only a quarter of a million dollars. That was the problem, and Parker knew it. Younger had been counting on the whole pie, and now he was having to shift his thinking, having to gear down to half a pie.

Half a pie in the sky.

With the outskirts of Omaha lumping up ahead of them, Younger finally nodded. 'All right,' he said. 'It's the best way.'

Parker knew what he meant. He meant he wasn't that sure anyway that he could get Parker before Parker got him.

'You're right,' Parker told him.

SIX

PARKER'S note read:

I killed Adolph Tiftus. He came in my room and we argued and I hit him with the ashtray. Then I went to Joe Shardin's house and saw Captain Younger and told him it was half an hour earlier than it was. I scared Rhonda Samuels into making up the story about Jim Chambers.

Charles Willis

Younger read it and said, 'Fine. That covers the whole thing.'

They were sitting at the kitchen table in Joe Sheer's Omaha apartment. Parker had found pen and paper and had written his note first, to keep Younger from getting suspicious. Now he pushed the pen and the pad of paper across the desk and said, 'Your turn.'

'Sure,' said Younger, but he kept holding Parker's note, and there was a thoughtful look in his eye.

Parker told him, 'Forget it. You still need me. You need me to find the dough, and you need me to help you when you find the guy that killed Tiftus.'

'I didn't have any plans,' Younger said. He put the note down, took the pen, and started to write. Parker watched him and waited.

This was a quiet neighbourhood Joe had picked. There wasn't a sound coming in the kitchen window, not a sound anywhere but the ballpoint pen sliding over the paper as Younger wrote his suicide note.

When it was done, Parker took it and read it:

I killed Joseph Shardin. I didn't mean to, I was trying to extort money from him and it was an accident. Dr. Rayborn knows all about it, he helped me cover it up. He had to, because I had something on him.

Capt. Abner L. Younger

Younger said, 'How is it?'

'Fine,' said Parker, and took the.22 pistol out of his pocket. 'Keep you palms flat on the table,' he said.

Younger's eyes got bigger. He said, 'What are you gonna do?'

Parker reached out for the note he'd written, crumpled it, and stuffed it in his pocket. Then he got to his feet. 'You don't move,' he said. 'You don't make a single move.'

'You found it,' Younger said. His voice was bitter and disgusted. 'You found it. It was in the house there all the time.'

'I didn't find a dollar,' Parker told him. 'Joe told you the truth, there wasn't any half million.'

'You're lying.'

Parker shook his head. 'No more,' he said. 'There's no more reason to lie.'

Younger raised his eyes and looked at Parker's face and saw what Parker meant. He said, 'You can't do this. You can't get away with it.'

Carefully, so he wouldn't wrinkle it, Parker picked up Younger's note and put it up on top of the refrigerator, where it would be out of Younger's reach.

Younger said, 'If there isn't any money, you don't have to kill me.'

'I can't trust you,' Parker told him. 'I can't ever trust you. If I let you live, you'll always think the half million's around somewhere; you'll think I've got it.'

'No. No, I won't, I'll-'

'We'll talk about it,' Parker promised. 'But first I want your gun. I don't want you armed while we talk about it.'

'We can talk about it,' Younger said nodding. 'You're right, we can talk about it. There's always some other way to do things, you don't have to-'

'Your gun,' Parker said. 'Reach in under your coat and take it out and put it on the table. When you take it out, just use your thumb and first finger and just hold it by the butt. And move slow and careful.'

'Sure thing, Willis. I won't try anything.' Younger was sweating now, scared and eager, trying to find some reason to think he might be alive fifteen minutes from now. He took his pistol out the way Parker had told him, and put it down on the table.

It was a.32, a Smith & Wesson Model 30. Parker took a clean white handkerchief from his pocket and picked Younger's pistol up in his right hand. He held the.22 now in his left.

Younger's hands were still pressed palm down on the formica table-top, but they were trembling anyway. He watched Parker, and he kept smiling. He was smiling with nerves, and with some stupid idea that a smile would show Parker he was really an all-right guy after all, and with fear. He said, 'I believe you, Willis. There isn't any money. I believe you.'

'Too late,' Parker told him. He walked around the table and stuck the.32 up close against Younger's chest, at an angle the way it would be if Younger were holding the gun himself in his right hand. Younger's mouth opened, and his hands started to come up from the table to protect himself, and Parker pulled the trigger.