In the Heat of the Night

and you don’t come from around here. I know about you. For the sake of these gentlemen I don’t want to get rough, but you’ve gotta leave. If my boss ever hears that I let you walk in the door, he’ll fire me for sure. Now please go.”
    “Why?” Tibbs asked.
    Ralph’s face flushed and his temper snapped. “Because I told you to.” With these words, he put his hand on Virgil’s shoulder and pushed him around.
    Tibbs whirled on the balls of his feet, seized Ralph’s extended arm with both hands, and pulled it behind him in a painful hammerlock.
    Sam could stand no more; he was on his feet and came forward. “Let him go, Virgil,” he said. “It isn’t his fault.”
    Virgil Tibbs seemed not to hear the remark. His hesitant manner had vanished and on the instant he was all business.
    “Here he is, Sam,” he said. “You can arrest this man for the murder of Enrico Mantoli.”

- 14 -

    It was a dirty, hot dawn which streaked the sky. What colors there were were smoky and the beauty that often comes with the first light of day was not there. Virgil Tibbs sat waiting in the detention room of the police station, reading another paperback book; this one was Anatomy of a Murder.
    After almost three hours, the door of Gillespie’s office opened. There was the sound of footsteps and then the clanging of a cell door. A few moments later, the big man who headed the Wells police department came into the detention room. He sat down and lighted a cigarette. Tibbs waited for him to speak.
    “He signed a confession,” Gillespie said.
    Tibbs put his book down. “I was sure you could do it,” he said. “Did he implicate the abortionist?”
    Gillespie looked slightly startled. “You seem to know all about this, Virgil. I’d like to know how you doped it all out.”
    “Where’s Sam?” Virgil asked. It was the first time he had used Wood’s first name in Gillespie’s presence.
    Apparently Gillespie didn’t notice it. “He went back out on patrol. Said it was his job.”
    “He’s an exceptionally conscientious officer,” Virgil said, “and that means a great deal. With the music crowds coming here soon, you will be needing more help.”
    “I know it,” Gillespie said.
    “I was thinking that Sam would make a good sergeant. The men could look up to and respect him and Sam is ready for the job.”
    “Are you trying to run my department for me, Virgil?” Gillespie asked.
    “No, I was just thinking that if you did decide on something in that direction, Sam would probably be very grateful to you. Under those circumstances I think he might forget all about the recent inconvenience he went through. Pardon my bringing it up.”
    Gillespie said nothing for a moment. Tibbs waited and let him take his time. “How long ago did you know it was Ralph?” the chief asked finally.
    “Not until yesterday,” Tibbs said. “I’ve got a confession to make, Chief Gillespie: I almost bungled this one beyond recovery. You see, up until yesterday I was hotly in pursuit of the wrong man.”
    The phone rang. The night desk man answered and then called to Gillespie. “It’s for you, Chief,” he said.
    Gillespie rose to his feet and went to see who was calling at a little after seven in the morning. It was George Endicott.
    “I called to ask when you would be in,” Endicott explained. “I didn’t expect to find you at this hour.”
    “You’re an early riser,” Gillespie said.
    “Not normally. Eric Kaufmann called with the news that you and your men have caught Enrico’s murderer. Please accept my very sincere congratulations. I understand you made the arrest personally. That was certainly a fine piece of work.”
    Gillespie remembered some of the resolutions he had made. “The actual arrest was made by Mr. Wood,” Gillespie said. “I was there, that’s all. My part came later when I questioned him until he broke down and confessed.”
    “I still can’t believe you were there by accident,” Endicott said.
    The chief drew a deep breath and did what he had never done before. “You will have to give credit to Virgil; he had a lot to do with it.”
    Now that it was over, it hadn’t been so bad. And Endicott was from the North, which made it easier still.
    “Listen, I’ve talked to Grace and Duena. Although it may be a bit out of place so soon after Enrico’s death, we want to have a quiet gathering here tonight. I hope you can arrange to join us.”
    “I’d be glad to.”
    “Fine, and will you please