The Jugger

going now, Parker? You going out to Joe's house? You know where it is?'

Parker strode on.

Tiftus said, 'You been here before, haven't you? You and Joe was good buddies, wasn't you?'

Parker had nothing to say to him.

Tiftus said, 'I know it, Parker, I know all about it. You used to come up here and visit him all the time, I heard about that. You think you got the inside track now, don't you?'

Parker said nothing, but he was listening. Tiftus might say something useful after all.

Tiftus said, 'I'm not greedy, Parker, you know me, you know I'm not the greedy type. We could work something out. You hear me?'

Parker didn't slacken his pace, but he said, to see if Tiftus would tell him anything, 'Work what out?'

'The split,' Tiftus said, as though that explained anything. As though it explained everything. 'The split.' He said it twice. 'I don't ask fifty-fifty,' he said, and his voice showed he knew how generous he was being. 'I know Joe was your friend, you got more of a claim than me, I know that. But I'm here, too, Parker, you got to accept that. I got a claim, too, because I'm here. You got to work out a split with me.'

'How much?'

'Make me an offer.'

Damn Tiftus! He kept talking all the time, talking as though he knew exactly what he was talking about, but he never said anything. Jabber jabber jabber, and nothing coming out.

Some things were obvious: Tiftus was here because he thought there was money to be made here somewhere, and his hope for money was connected with Joe Sheer somehow, and he figured Parker was here for the same reason. But did Tiftus' hopes and expectations have anything to do with Joe's troubles? Or with the way Joe died? Or with why Captain Younger was hanging around?

There were too many questions, too few answers, and not enough time.

It was too bad Tiftus was such a loser, so unreliable, such a mistake. If it had been somebody with brains and dependability, somebody like Handy McKay or Salsa, Parker would have worked an arrangement with him by now and they'd all know where they stood. But not Tiftus; Parker wouldn't link up with Tiftus ever.

Take the business of the woman. Tiftus is supposed to be coming here to work, and he brings a woman along. Parker had a woman, too, and he'd left her in Miami when he'd come up here. But Tiftus brought his along; a man who won't give up comfort for success makes a bad partner.

Tiftus said again, 'Make me an offer, Parker.'

The only thing to do was get away from Tiftus, ignore him, find out what there was to know from other sources. Parker stopped, turned, and grabbed a handful of orange shirt. 'Here's the offer,' he said. 'Third time today.'

'Don't!'

Parker clipped him, enough to feel but not enough to knock him out. When he let the little man go, Tiftus sat down on the sidewalk like a baby.

Parker stood over him, hands closed into fists. The next time you show up,' he said, 'I'll fix you so you don't show up any more. You know me, Tiftus, you know I don't say things for fun.'

Tiftus didn't say anything. He just sat there.

Parker looked around. They were on a residential street, houses with porches. A few cars went by, and the people in them looked curiously at Parker and Tiftus but didn't stop. There were no pedestrians in this block.

Parker said, 'Good-bye, Tiftus.'

He turned around and walked away. Behind him, Tiftus just sat on the sidewalk. The people in the cars going by looked at the brightly dressed little man sitting on the sidewalk. After a few minutes he got to his feet and went away. He didn't follow Parker.

FOUR

IT looked like a private home, except for the small metal sign on the lawn:

L. D. RAYBORN, MD

Parker went up on the broad porch and saw the other sign beside the front door. This one simply said OFFICE and had an arrow pointing away to the right. Parker went that way, his steps echoing on the bare boards of the porch. The porch was freshly painted but empty of furniture, as though the house were vacant. At the side of the house he saw that the porch went around to a little cubby-hole where there was another door.

And another sign, this one above the doorbell: RING AND WALK IN.

He rang; then tried the knob. The door was locked. Exasperated, he rang again, longer this time.

He was just about to go back to try the main door when this one opened, and an angry nurse, glaring at him through the screen door said, 'Office hours are not until two.'

Parker shook his head. 'I'm not a patient,' he said. 'I want to see the doctor on another matter.'

'I can't help that,' she said. 'Office hours are not until two.'