In the Heat of the Night

girl.”
    “I’m his girl,” Duena said.
    Sam Wood looked at her with wonder and disbelief.
    Delores, too, looked at Duena. When she had finished, she turned listlessly back to face Bill Gillespie. She was inert, ready to topple whichever way she was Pushed.
    “He can’t have my girl, he’s too old for her,” Purdy said.
    Bill Gillespie made a decision. “Since you both came forward with a statement that clears Mr. Wood, as far as my department is concerned, we'll call it a closed incident. That doesn’t mean that Mr. Wood won’t sue you for defamation of character; I imagine he probably will.”
    “I don’t want to sue anybody,” Sam said.
    Purdy turned toward his daughter. “We’ll go home,” he said, and rose. Delores got up after him. Then she turned and tried hard to smile at Sam. “I’m real sorry,” she said.
    Sam remembered he was a gentleman and got to his feet. So did Virgil Tibbs. George Endicott remained seated. With no further remarks, the Purdys filed out. It took a few moments after they had gone for the atmosphere to clear.
    “Now what happens?” Gillespie asked.
    Virgil Tibbs answered him. “We finish clearing Mr. Wood. Is there any other point you want settled before you release him?"
    “Yes,” Gillespie replied. “I want him to tell me how come he had six hundred dollars plus in cash to use in paying off his mortgage.”
    Tibbs spoke before Sam could. “I think I can answer that. The bank told you he had that amount in cash, but they didn’t tell you what kind of cash.”
    “Cash is cash,” Gillespie said.
    “Not in this case, Tibbs replied. "When I asked about it, they told me the money was largely in coins—quarters, halves, and even nickels and dimes. There were some bills, too, but the largest one was five dollars.”
    The light dawned. “You mean he’d been hoarding it?” Gillespie asked.
    “That’s right,” Virgil replied. “It wasn’t the smart way because he could have deposited it at interest and earned around eighteen dollars a year. And his money would have been a lot safer. I am inclined to believe he has been saving what he could this way ever since he has been on the force in order to pay off his mortgage. Probably on the basis of a quota he set for himself.”
    “I tried to make it fifty cents a day,” Sam explained. "Actually you did a little better than that,” Tibbs told him, “closer to four dollars a week. But why didn’t you put it in the bank?”
    “I didn’t want to spend it. That was my mortgage money. I kept it by itself and I never took a nickel out of it until I paid for my home.”
    “Anyhow, I think that clears that one up,” Tibbs said, speaking to Gillespie. “Is he a free man now?
    Gillespie looked at George Endicott before he answered. The spirit seemed gone out of him. “I guess so,” he said.
    “Then,” Virgil said, “I want to ask you to restore him to duty immediately so he can make his regular patrol tonight.”
    “I’d like to spend a night at home first,” Sam said. “I think it’s important that you drive tonight,” Tibbs answered. “And if you don’t mind, I’m coming with you.” Tibbs turned to face Gillespie. “I’m going to give you a guarantee,” he said. “Unless something radical happens, before morning Mr. Wood will arrest the murderer of Enrico Mantoli.”

- 13 -

    When Sam Wood walked through the lobby of the police station and out into the open air, he had the strong feeling that he had just lived through a bad dream. The extremes of anger, outrage, and hopelessness he had felt were all spent now and he was back exactly where he had been before it had all started. Except for one thing: he had held Duena Mantoli in his arms and she had kissed him. And in the presence of witnesses she had stated she was his girl.
    Of course she wasn’t, Sam knew that She had said that simply to embarrass Delores Purdy and she had succeeded. For a few precious moments, Sam allowed himself to imagine that she had meant it. Then he snapped out of it and remembered it was time for dinner.
    He drove to the café that offered the only acceptable steaks in town and ordered one. He felt he had it coming.
    The manager came over to exchange a word with him. “I’m glad to see you, Mr. Wood,” he said.
    Sam knew exactly what he meant. “I’m glad to be here,” he answered in the same vein. “Tell the cook to make that a good steak, will you?”
    “I did,” the manager said. “Say, I wanted to ask