The Jugger

Younger had been trying some rudimentary kind of psychology, because now he said, 'Or is it here? Do you know for sure it's here? How come you were digging in the cellar?'

Parker shook his head, but didn't say anything.

'All right, not you, your partner. The little bastard in the funny clothes. You were seen punching him in the face right out on the sidewalk this afternoon, what do you think of that?'

'Not much.'

'He's your partner, isn't he?'

'No.'

'He was digging down there, wasn't he?'

'Maybe it was him, maybe not. The guy that hit me had a burlap bag over his head.'

'Oh, stop that! You went down there with him! What do you think I am?'

Parker said, 'I think you're a hick and a moron and a bigmouth and yellow from your head to your ass.'

The captain stopped in his tracks and stared at Parker. His face got red, and his hand on the gun got white. He opened his mouth three times before he managed to say anything, and then the words came out in a strangled whisper:

'I could kill you, Willis, don't you know that? I run this town, I run it, I run the police force. I could kill you, right here and now, shoot you down dead at my feet, and nobody'd ever say a word to me about it. You're surely wanted somewhere for something, an old friend of Joe Sheer's like you, you've got to be on somebody's wanted list. I caught you burglarizing the house and when I tried to arrest you, you jumped me and I shot you in self-defence. Don't you know that? I could kill you right now and not think twice about it.'

'If you kill me,' Parker told him, 'you'll never know anything.'

'I won't? I won't?' For some reason, that seemed to make Younger even madder than before. 'Explain that,' he said. 'Make it snappy, you, explain yourself. By God, I will kill you! You give me a reason not to do it, just one good reason not to shoot you down this minute.' Parker said, 'I went to see Gliffe.'

Younger waited, but Parker didn't say any more. Finally, Younger said, 'So what? What's that supposed to mean?'

'You figure it out.'

'What the hell are you talking about?'

'You don't understand what's going on, Younger. You got a theory and it doesn't work, it's full of holes. There's some little man I'm supposed to be partners with, but I'm seen hitting him on the street and he hits me with a shovel down in the cellar here. You call that partners? Does your theory tell you why I went to see Gliffe and Rayborn? Does it tell you why I went to Lynbrooke?'

'To get the paper, what are you talking about? I know what you went to Lynbrooke for, to get the paper.'

'Why? Why did I want the paper?'

Younger was looking more and more baffled, more and more irritated, more and more impatient and enraged. He waved his arms wildly, shouting, 'What the hell do I care? I don't care what you wanted the goddam paper for, what do I care about that? I know what you came to this town for, don't give me a lot of-'

The shrilling of the telephone cut into his hollering and stopped it like turning off a radio. In the silence after the first ring they looked at one another, Younger's eyes wide as though some sort of superstition had him in its grip, Parker watching and waiting.

The phone shrilled a second time. Younger shook his head and in the silence this time said, 'It's your partner, calling you. But I'll answer the phone, Willis, what do you think of that?'

There was nothing to say. Younger was a moron with a title, that's all; give a moron authority and after a while he forgets he's a moron.

Younger went over and picked up the phone before it could make its noise a third time. He held it carefully to his face, as though still a little afraid it might explode. Cautiously he said, 'Hello? Hello?'

As Parker watched, an expression of relief washed over Younger's face and he said, 'Yes, this is he, this is he.' He hunched over the phone, listening as though for a state secret; then he frowned and half turned to peer at Parker, and said, 'Who? Local?' He kept watching Parker as he listened to the answer, and then he turned away again and said, his voice lower than before, 'How long?'

Parker knew something was wrong, but not how bad or if it connected with him. He watched and waited and wondered if in a minute or two he was going to have to jump Younger and kill him and start covering his tracks around here.

This thing was just getting worse and worse, and now he was in it too deep to get out again, and the worst part was he was in it using the Charles Willis name, the safe name, the cover name, the background name. If the Charles Willis name got loused up he'd have to start all over again from scratch.

He looked at his hands. The tips of those fingers were on file in Washington, Listed under the name Ronald Casper. Ronald Casper was wanted for killing a prison-farm guard in California, the result of a bad time he'd had with his now-dead wife a few years ago. Parker himself was probably wanted for a few robberies here and there, though without the connecting link of fingerprints. But up till now Charles Willis wasn't wanted anywhere.

He couldn't afford to have Younger book him, not for anything, not even for spitting on the sidewalk.