In the Heat of the Night (17 page)

Tibbs spread his hands. “Nobody doubts that,” he said. “And everybody knows you’re a respectable man. But because Sam Wood says he never even talked to your daughter, the cops are going to take some tests on her just to be sure.”

“There ain’t no test’ll tell who done it to a girl,” Delores protested.

“That’s right,” Tibbs agreed, “but there are tests that will prove a certain person
didn’t
do it. Those are the ones you’re going to have to take.”

“Like what?” Purdy asked.

“Well, first they take a sample of her blood. That isn’t so bad. They stick a needle in her vein at the forearm and draw out enough to fill some test tubes.”

“I don’t like needles stuck in me,” Delores protested.

“Who’s gonna do that?” Purdy demanded.

“The doctor will do that,” Tibbs replied. “All these tests are done by doctors; nobody else will touch your daughter.”

“They better not,” Purdy said.

“Then, after that,” Tibbs went on, “they have to make an examination to make sure that she was violated as she says. Also they have to find out whether or not she is going to have a baby.”

Purdy sprang to his feet, his face twisted in a rage. “Ain’t nobody gonna look at her secrets,” he thundered. “I’ll shoot the man who tries to look at her secrets. You get outa here.”

Tibbs continued to sit still. “All I’m doing is warning you,” he explained. “You want to know these things before they come and do them when you’re away, don’t you?”

“Nobody’s gonna look at her secrets,” Purdy persisted.

“The only thing that will save her is if the man confesses,” Virgil emphasized. “He says he’s innocent, you filed charges, so the doctors have to examine her.”

“Gillespie can stop it,” Purdy said. “You’ll see.”

Tibbs shook his head. “He’d like to, of course, but the law won’t let him. Wood can get a court order through his lawyer and then you have no choice.” Tibbs locked his hands together and stared at them as he made his next statement. “Now I want to tell you something that’s very important. But I don’t want you to tell anyone I told you. I just don’t want to see an innocent man like you framed and put into trouble.”

“They can’t do nothin’ to me, I didn’t do it.” Purdy let his voice reach for hysteria. “I told you she’s my own natural-born daughter.”

“Of course she is,” Tibbs said, putting sudden authority in his tone. “But suppose you get up in court and say that Sam Wood is the man who got her into trouble. Then suppose the doctor makes a mistake and says he isn’t. That leaves you guilty of perjury, swearing falsely in court, and for that you can go to prison. That’s what I want to warn you about and tell you how to protect yourself.”

“Doctors don’t make mistakes like that,” Delores protested, but heavy strain showed in her voice.

“Sometimes they do,” Tibbs said, “and juries believe them. Now suppose you tell me just how it happened, then I’ll try to get Sam Wood to confess. If he does, you both have nothing to worry about.”

“You mean then they’ll leave us alone?” Purdy wanted to know.

“That’s right,” Tibbs told him.

He turned to his daughter. “Tell him,” he ordered.

Delores wiggled in her chair and tried her utmost to look the violated virgin. Instead she looked more like a carnival Kewpie-doll.

“Well, he’s always coming past here at night, peeking in the windows,” Delores began. “I should of told my pa but I was kinda scared, him bein’ a cop and all that. Then one night when Pa was out he come by and knocked on the door. Said he was on his way to work. He was askin’ for names of girls who would like to be queen of the music festival. He said I was real cute and he wanted to put my name down for queen.”

She stopped and looked up. Virgil nodded for her to go on.

“Well, he sweet-talked quite a bit and said even though he worked nights, he still saw a lot of people and could get me enough votes so’s I’d win. Iffin I did, I’d win me a trip to New York. I don’t remember too much after that. He gave me a drink he said wouldn’t hurt me but would make me feel real good. He said I was the future queen and everybody would wish they was me. He said in New York I’d learn to sing and dance and maybe even be in the movies. He said he could make it all come true and that I oughta be real grateful to him. … After that I don’t remember so much except when he went away he said for me not to worry because he had been careful. Them’s his words, he said he’d been careful.”

Tibbs got to his feet. “You’re sure it was Sam?” he asked. “I just don’t want to make any mistakes that might hurt you.”

Delores looked up, her face a mask. “It was Sam,” she said.

Virgil Tibbs left the house and drove away. He went to the police station and put in a long-distance call to Gottschalk, the missile engineer. Then he paid a visit to Harvey Oberst, who hated to be seen with a Negro but who remembered that this particular Negro had gotten him out of jail. Then he called on the Reverend Amos Whiteburn and talked to two small boys who were produced for his benefit. After that he returned to the police station and phoned a hotel in Atlanta. All this done, he called on two Negro residents of Wells and four white residents, two of whom refused to receive him. He also paid a visit to Dr. Harding. When at last he was finished, he was weary almost to exhaustion. He had had very little sleep and he was tired of battling opposition that was no fault of his. But at least he had his reward. He was ready now to talk to Bill Gillespie.

I
N THE MORNING
, after a bitter and restless night, Duena Mantoli arose to find that she had made up her mind. She took a long, refreshing shower. When she was through, she paused for a minute to look at herself in the glass. She knew that she was unusually pretty and she knew also that she worked hard to keep herself that way. Very well; physically she could at least match anything that wore skirts; the thing she must do now was to call upon another part of her heritage. It was time for her to use her brain.

She dressed and went down to breakfast. George and Grace Endicott were waiting for her. “We’ve heard from Eric,” Grace told her as soon as she was seated, “and he has very good news. Two pieces of it. First of all, he’s managed to get a very prominent conductor to save the festival for us.”

“Who is it?” Duena asked.

“Eric wouldn’t say; he said he wanted to surprise us when he gets here. The other good news is that the agency handling the ticket sales reports we are doing much better than they had expected.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Duena said. She drank a glass of orange juice and then told them what was really on her mind. “You’re going to think I’m crazy when I tell you this, but I’m going down to the city today to see Mr. Schubert. I want to talk to him.”

“What about?” Endicott asked.

“I don’t like the way things are going. Something’s wrong. He’s got a man in jail I happen to think is innocent. I don’t understand why he hasn’t been released on bail or else brought up for indictment, whatever the legal procedure is.”

Grace Endicott took over. “I wouldn’t, Duena. Frankly, neither you nor I are experts in these things and all we could do is get in the way of the people who are. It won’t help matters and it might even hinder them.”

Duena poured herself more orange juice and drank it. “You don’t understand. Mr. Wood, the officer who was up here … that day … is in jail. He’s not guilty, I know it. Don’t ask me why now, but I know. That’s why I want to see the mayor.”

George Endicott picked his words carefully. “Duena, I think you’re getting emotionally involved. Sit tight and let the men handle it. If Wood is innocent, he won’t be in jail very long. And then there’s Tibbs; he impresses me as competent.”

“That won’t help him much here,” Duena retorted. Then she changed her tack. “Oh, well. Are you going down today?”

“Yes, this afternoon.”

“Then may I come along for the ride? Maybe I can at least do some shopping.”

Endicott nodded his consent to that.

Frank Schubert adjusted his posture in his chair, conscious of the challenging femininity of his visitor. He wondered how she had talked George Endicott into bringing her here, but it was evident that she had.

“Miss Mantoli,” he began, “I’m going to be very truthful with you; in fact I’m going to give you some confidential information. Will you promise me to keep it strictly to yourself?”

“I promise,” Duena said.

“All right. I don’t know how much you know about the economy of the South, but certain areas have been very hard hit. Wells is one of them. We aren’t on the main highway, only on an alternate route that perhaps one car in fifty chooses to take. That means that we lose a lot of tourist revenue. Agriculture is on the decline in this vicinity, industry so far has refused to move here, and putting it bluntly, both the city itself and many of the people in it are close to being on the rocks.”

Duena, who was listening carefully, nodded.

“We realized—the council members and myself—that something would have to be done about it or we would be in a very serious situation. So George here came up with the music-festival idea. It didn’t go over too well at first, but he convinced us that it would put us on the tourist map. If that were to happen, it would be a tremendous help. So, with some misgivings, we went ahead. I understand now that ticket sales are very good, so George appears to have proved his point.

“Now this brings up another matter, one that concerns you directly—or indirectly. The job of police chief came open and we had to fill it. None of the men on the force were anywhere near to being ready to step into the job. So we had an idea. We thought that if we advertised the opening, we might attract a good lawman who would take the job even at a very small salary, for the sake of the title and the experience. Then, when we got on our feet, we could raise his salary enough to keep him or else hire a replacement if we wanted to.

“Well, it worked out that our thinking, as far as it went, was correct. We had several applicants willing to work for the salary for the sake of the career advancement it would represent. One of them was Bill Gillespie. Certain members of the council—and I’m mentioning no names—insisted on a southerner, who would at least do all he could to maintain our traditional race relationships. Someone from the North might shove integration down our throats long before we were ready to accept it and, if possible, make it work.”

“So you hired Gillespie,” Duena said.

“We did. His record looked very good, as much as we could hope for for what we had to offer. Personally, I will tell you in strict confidence that I consider we made a bad choice, but at least the certain council members I spoke of a moment ago were satisfied.”

Schubert looked about him as if to make sure that no one else was within earshot. Then he leaned forward to make his words more confidential. “If he has the wrong man in jail, he will be out before very long, I’ll promise you that. But you must understand there is strong evidence against him. Now I have talked to some of the council members, and I’m telling George here now that if Gillespie doesn’t get this thing straightened out in the next few days, we’re going to recall him. He’s under contract, but there’s a trial period and it isn’t over yet. So don’t worry, we’ll handle that end.”

It was a few minutes before four when George Endicott and Duena Mantoli left the mayor’s office. They had received word that Eric Kaufmann was coming by early in the evening. When George Endicott had suggested staying down for a quiet supper and then picking up Kaufmann afterward, Duena had had her chance. It was still too early to eat but she had another idea. “I have to see Mr. Tibbs,” she explained.

“I think you had better postpone that,” Endicott advised. “If you went over there now you might make an inadvertent slip and that could be serious.”

Duena looked up at him with an expression which combined disappointment and reproach; George Endicott suddenly decided that perhaps in his capacity as councilman he ought to exchange a few words with Bill Gillespie.

Arnold spoke through the bars to Sam Wood. “You’ve got another visitor.” He swung open the door to admit Virgil Tibbs. The Pasadena detective walked in without an invitation and sat down on the edge of the hard bunk.

“Well, Virgil,” Sam asked wearily, “what is it now?”

“I just wanted to tell you,” Tibbs replied, “that I’m going in to see Gillespie as soon as he gets back here. When I do, I’m going to prove to him, so that even he can see it, that you’re innocent. I think I can make him let you go.”

Sam spoke without inflection. “Why don’t you just give up and go home. I thought you were smart.”

“I haven’t finished my job,” Virgil answered. “The world is full of a lot of people who never accomplished anything because they wouldn’t see it through. I have two things left to do here: to get you cleared and out of here, and to deliver a murderer to Gillespie. Then I can go home.”

“I wish you luck,” Sam said. He didn’t look at Virgil as he spoke.

“Before I go in to see Gillespie, I want to clear up a point or two with you,” Tibbs said. “I’m pretty sure I know the answers, but the less I have to guess, the stronger my case is going to be.”

Sam shrugged his shoulders. “What’s on your mind?” he asked.

“On the night that we rode together on patrol, you made a slight change of route and you made it on purpose. At the time I didn’t know why. I think I do now. You wanted to avoid going past the Purdy house, is that right?”

Sam showed some signs of life. “Virgil, I wish you wouldn’t mess in this. I know you’re trying to help, but …”

“Also,” Virgil continued, “I think I know
why
you didn’t want to go past the Purdy house that night.”

“Have you been driving past there?” Sam asked suspiciously.

“No,” Tibbs answered, “I didn’t have to. Harvey Oberst told me all I needed to know the day he was here in the station.”

He stopped then and there was silence for a while. Sometimes he found it best to let someone have the opportunity to collect his thoughts. He knew that Sam was thinking and that is exactly what he wanted him to do. Finally Sam broke the silence.