In the Heat of the Night

there. We’ve got an old police car in reserve I could let you have.”
    “Please,” Tibbs requested, “not a police car. If you know a used-car dealer who will lend me something that runs, that would be a lot better. I don’t want to be conspicuous.”
    Gillespie realized that it was going to be harder to make Tibbs undo himself than he thought. “I think I know a place,” he said, and U-turned in the middle of the block. He drove to a garage on the other side of the railroad tracks. A huge Negro mechanic came out to meet him.
    “Jess,” Gillespie instructed, “this is Virgil, who is working for me. I want you to lend him a car or get him one he can use. For a week or so. Something that runs all right, something maybe you’ve fixed up.”
    “Anything I fix up,” Jess replied, “runs right. Who’ll be responsible?”
    “I will,” Tibbs said.
    “Come on, then,” Jess retorted, and walked back into his shop. Virgil Tibbs got out of Gillespie’s car, Pulled his bag from the rear seat, and spoke to his new superior. “I’ll report in as soon as I can clean up,” he said.
    “Take your time,” Gillespie answered. “Tomorrow will be all right.” He pushed hard on the gas pedal and *he car jumped away, throwing up a cloud of dust. Virgil Tibbs picked up his suitcase and walked into the garage.
    “Who are you?” Jess asked.
    “My name is Tibbs. I’m a policeman from California.
    Jess wiped his hands on a garage rag. “I’m saving up to move west myself. I want to get out of here,” he confided, “but don’t tell nobody. You can take my car. I got another one to drive if I need it. What are you supposed to be doing?”
    “They had a murder here this morning. They don’t know what to do about it, so they’re using me for a fall guy”
    A look of heavy suspicion crossed Jess’s round black face. “How you gonna protect yourself?” he asked.
    “By catching the murderer,” Tibbs answered.

    Because of the heat, and the upsetting of his routine, Sam Wood had a short and fitful sleep. By two in the afternoon he was up and dressed. He made himself a sandwich from the simple provisions he kept on hand and then read his mail. The last of the three letters in the small pile he opened with shaking fingers. There was a note on a legal letterhead and a check. When he looked at the check, Sam stopped worrying about the murder. He shoved the letter and check into his breast pocket, looked at his watch, and hurried out of his house. Suddenly it was important to him to reach the bank before three.
    An hour later, Sam drove to the police station to pick up the news. It was also payday. To his amazement he found Bill Gillespie in the lobby talking to Virgil Tibbs.
    Sam picked up his pay check at the desk, signed for it, and then turned to find Bill Gillespie waiting for him. “Wood, I know you’re off duty, but we need some help around here. Can you drive Virgil up to the Endicotts’; he wants to interview Mantoli’s daughter.” It was not a question, but a moderately put order. Sam did not understand the sudden toleration of the California detective, but discretion told him not to pick that time and place to ask. He was glad to go; he didn’t want to miss anything.
    “Certainly, Chief, if you want me to.”
    Gillespie drew an exasperated breath. “If I didn’t want you to, Wood, I wouldn’t have asked you. Virgil has a car, but you know the way.”
    Why was it, Sam asked himself, that every time he tried to be courteous to Gillespie, his new chief took it the wrong way. He nodded to Tibbs and wondered for an instant if he should drive his personal car up the mountain or use his regular patrol car, which was parked in the yard. He was not in uniform. The solution leaped into his mind: he was for a moment a plainclothesman; as such he would drive the official car. He led the way, Tibbs followed. When Sam climbed into the driver’s seat, Tibbs opened the opposite door and sat beside him. After a moment’s hesitation, Sam accepted the arrangement and pressed the starter.
    When they were out of traffic and moving through the outskirts toward the road that led up to the Endicott aerie, Sam yielded to his curiosity. “You seem to have gotten on the good side of the chief,” he remarked, then wondered immediately if he had been too friendly, too overt, or both.
    “I know you must have been wondering,” Tibbs responded. “My presence here embarrassed Chief Gillespie and I had the bad judgment