In the Heat of the Night

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.