"Westlake, Donald E as Stark, Richard - Parker 09 - The Split (The Seventh) 1.1" - читать интересную книгу автора (Westlake Donald E)

'That's bad news,' Parker said. He turned and went out.

There were no cabs running in this part of town -- no reason for them. All the cabs here were parked inside garages. Parker started walking toward downtown.

He went two blocks, and then behind him a ways a voice called out, 'Hey!' It had that odd strained sound a voice has when somebody tries to shout quietly.

Parker turned and saw a bulky man coming down the sidewalk toward him. He moved past a streetlight as Parker watched, and it was the guy in the mackinaw, the one that had been asleep on the bench back in the cab garage. Parker put his right hand in his topcoat pocket, and stepped back into darker shadow in the lee of a tenement stoop.

They had this block to themselves. The windows of all the tenements on both sides were marked with the white X of urban renewal; they stood nearly empty, waiting for the wreckers. Within them the cockroaches crawled and the rats cluttered, but the humans were away, infesting some other neighborhood. Outside, the street was empty of cars, either moving or parked. Except for the man in the mackinaw, nothing living moved on the sidewalk.

The man in the mackinaw hurried the last half block separating them, and then abruptly slowed and came forward more warily, head craned forward like a periscope, turning slowly from side to side. In a shrill whisper he called, 'Where are you? Where'd you get to?'

'Here.'

He stopped. 'What are you doing? come on out of there.'

Parker said, 'You want to talk, talk.'

'You was asking about Dan Kifka.'

'So?'

He hesitated, didn't seem to know how to go on. 'Why don't you come out where I can see you?' He sounded plaintive.

Parker told him, 'Say what you've got to say.'

'You a friend of Kifka's?'

'In a way.'

'He was supposed to be in tonight. Three nights in a row he was supposed to be in and he didn't show up.'

'So I heard.'

'They didn't tell you everything, back to the office. He keeps calling in sick. Every day he calls in sick and says be sure and leave him a slot for tomorrow, he'll be in for sure.'

That didn't make any sense yet. Parker ignored it, and said, 'What's your interest?'

'He owes me thirty-seven dollars for over a year now.' The aggrieved tone wasn't faked; Parker relaxed a little.

Still, he said, 'Why follow me?'

'I figured maybe you know where he is, maybe he owes you money, too, or something like that, and we can go see him together.'

'You don't know where he lives?'

He hesitated again, and sculled his feet on the sidewalk, and finally said, 'No, I don't.' This time he was obviously lying. The truth probably was he was afraid of Kifka, wouldn't dare brace Kifka alone in Kifka's apartment. That's why he'd been hanging around in the garage where there'd be other people there to help him in case Kifka got mad. And now he figured to ride along on Parker's coat-tails, but he was making a mistake.

Parker stepped out onto the sidewalk. 'Forget it,' he said.