dollars. Fifty-seven robberies in forty-three years. Almost two million dollars.'
Parker nodded. It was what he'd thought; a fable. 'What next?' he said.
'Simple arithmetic,' Younger told him. 'Just simple figuring, that's all.'
'Show me.'
Younger's hands were covering the second sheet of paper. He said, 'Such as, how much do you figure he spent a year? He made a lot of money, right, but how much do you think he spent? He had to be careful, not be too noticeable so people would wonder where his money came from, so what do you think? Twenty-five thousand a year? Maybe not even that much.'
'Maybe more,' Parker told him.
But Younger shook his head, sure of his ground. 'On what?' he wanted to know. 'How the hell can you spend more than twenty-five thousand dollars a year? it's impossible. Unless you're a millionaire already, everybody knows it and you got nothing to worry about. But somebody like Joe Sheer? He wouldn't dare spend too much. Twenty-five thousand a year is figuring
Parker didn't believe him. He spent more than twenty-five thousand a year himself, and so had Joe for most of his life. But Younger was at a different level; he'd never had twenty-five thousand dollars all to himself in one year, so he couldn't understand what could be done with money.
Younger took his hands away from the second sheet. 'All right,' he said. 'Here's the figures.' There were more numbers on this second sheet, but they weren't what caught Parker's eye. Besides the numbers there was a list of names, scattered down the right side of the paper. Loomis, McKay, Parker, Littlefield, Clinger… a long, long list of thirty or more names, all of them men Joe Sheer had worked with at one time or another.
But not in Joe's handwriting. The list of names, and the figures over on the other side of the page, were all done in the same handwriting as the total on the first sheet.
Younger looked up, smiling his smug smile, tapping a finger against the list of names. 'See that there? It wouldn't surprise me none if your name's down there. Don't think I ever bought that Willis name.'
Parker looked at him, seeing him definitely for the first time as a dead man. 'Let's get on with it,' he said.
Younger's smile faded. Looking at Parker, his eyes began to get a little uncertain. He lowered his head, cleared his throat, and tapped the sheet of paper. 'This is it, here,' he said. 'Never mind that other stuff, that doesn't matter. This is what matters.'
Parker waited.
Tracing the numbers with his fingers, Younger said, 'Sheer made one million, eight hundred seventy- six thousand dollars, right? In forty-three years. Now, we figure he spent twenty-five thousand a year, forty-three years, that a million and seventy-five thousand dollars. You subtract that from what he made, you got eight hundred and one thousand dollars left over. Eight hundred thousand he never spent, Willis!'
Parker nodded. It was a pretty castle Younger had in the air there.
Younger said, 'Sheer showed me some bank-books and mutual fund records and other stuff like that, just about a hundred and twenty thousand bucks worth. That's the money he had out in the open, to explain what he was living on. But the rest he had hidden away. He had to; he couldn't have explained it otherwise, see? A hundred and twenty thousand from eight hundred thousand, that's six hundred and eighty thousand dollars left over! You see it, Willis? Six hundred and eighty thousand dollars! Even if he was spending like crazy the last five years, buying this house and all, there's still got to be at
Parker got to his feet. It was the way he'd thought. Tiftus had figured Joe's goods closer to the truth, but Tiftus, too, hadn't been able to think more sensibly than a box of dough stashed away somewhere. That was what Tiftus would do, hide it in a mattress or bury it in the ground out by the old oak tree, but Joe Sheer had more sense; he invested it, in safe stocks and good mutual funds, and let the money work for him.
Parker lit a cigarette, and walked around the room, back and forth. He said, 'You talked to Joe Sheer about this, huh?'
'Sure I did. Where you think I got all these figures?' Younger picked up the two sheets of paper again and folded them to put back in the envelope. 'And the names,' he said. 'The figures and the names, all straight from Sheer.'
'When you told him about the half million, what did he say?'
Younger smiled, remembering. 'He tried to give me a lot of crap, Willis,' he said. 'Just like you tried once or twice.'
'What did he say?'
'He said he'd spent it all. He said the hundred and twenty thousand was all he had left.'
'But you don't think so.'
'Come off it, Willis. Let me give you the proof. I put a little pressure on him, and he came up with the thousand bucks from the flour canister. Not only that, he told me he'd give me the whole hundred and twenty thousand, he'd write letters off and get it all back from the mutual funds and everywhere and give me the whole damn thing. Now, would he give me all that if he didn't have a hell of a lot more stashed away somewhere else?'
Parker nodded, seeing the whole thing. Younger said, 'If he hadn't of died, I'd of found out where the rest of it was.'
That was a surprise. It meant Younger hadn't killed Joe after all. But Younger was still the trouble Joe had talked about in the letters, the trouble that had made Joe a stupid old man.
