The Jugger by Richard Stark Page B

window at the flat scenery going by, and Younger talked on and on and on.
     
    When they arrived in Omaha, Younger walked with the old man out of the terminal. On the way, he said, 'How long you staying in town?'
     
    The old man shrugged. 'A couple of days.'
     
    'Maybe we'll ride back together.' Younger smiled, happy and friendly.
     
    The old man gave him a cold and thoughtful look, and then looked away. 'Maybe we will,' he said.
     
    'I wouldn't be a bit surprised,' Younger said.
     
    Neither of them were.
     
     
FOUR
     
    'WELL, hello!'
     
    The old man had just stepped out of the supermarket, a bag of groceries in his hands. He looked up and saw Younger standing there, and a shadow crossed his face. All at once he seemed ten years older.
     
    Younger said, 'That looks heavy. I'm going your way, I'll give you a lift.'
     
    'No, that's all right, I—'
     
    'No trouble at all.' Younger took the bag of groceries and started away with them, and the old man couldn't do a thing but follow.
     
    The police car was parked at the kerb. Younger usually drove his own car, a small black Ford, but especially for today he'd borrowed the department's brand-new squad car, a green-and-yellow car with a red dome light on the roof, a whip antenna on the left side, and the word POLICE in huge yellow letters on hood and trunk and both doors.
     
    'Here we are.' Younger put the bag of groceries on the back seat, then held the front door open for the old man, who hesitated a dangerous fraction of a second before getting in. For just an instant there, Joe Sheer might have gone on the offensive, but the instant passed. Younger smiled at the old man's back, then slammed the door and strode around the car to the other side and got behind the wheel.
     
    The car was even more official-looking inside than out. The usual chrome-filled dashboard was supplemented by additional knobs for the dome light, and siren and spotlight, plus the two-way radio, plus a clipboard held to the top of the dash by a small magnet. The radio was switched on, breathing static and occasionally breaking into guttural voice.
     
    There were seat-belts in the car, and Younger made a production of fastening his, though he usually ignored such things. To the old man he said, 'Better fasten your belt too, Joe. Safety first, right? You always want to be able to feel you're safe, isn't that right?'
     
    His voice flat, the old man said, 'I suppose so.' He fastened his seat-belt with a click.
     
    Younger started the car, and they glided silently through the traffic, sunlight glinting off the polished hood. After a minute, Younger laughed and said, 'What'll your friends think, huh, Joe? Anybody sees you go by in a police car, they'll say, "Well, what do you know? The cops caught up with old Joe at last." You'll have a lot of explaining to do, Joe.' He laughed some more, and shook his head at how funny it was.
     
    The old man said, 'What do you want, Captain? What do you want from me?'
     
    Younger hesitated, but the time wasn't ripe. He'd only been working a couple of weeks on this, and Sheer was still too tough. He'd be asking that question again some other time, with a lot less challenge in his voice. So this time all Younger said was, 'I'll take a cup of coffee, Joe, but that's all. If I let you pay me to drive you home, the cabbies'd all be after me.' He laughed, and winked, and jabbed his elbow into the old man's arm.
     
    Sheer kept looking at him, as though he were going to say something else, but after a minute he sat back and looked out at the traffic, and another dangerous moment had passed.
     
    Two blocks later they passed a house with a FOR SALE sign out on the front lawn. Younger pointed at it and said, 'I know those folks, and they're crazy. You know that, Joe?'
     
    The old man frowned. 'Are they?'
     
    'Sure they are. To sell a house now, move out of town like they're doing, it just doesn't make any sense. The timing's all wrong for it, the market's off in houses