Five pieces of jade

CHAPTER 11

On the way back to the car Virgil was strangely silent; his hands were thrust into the pockets of his disreputable jacket and he walked with his head down, deep in his own thoughts. After an interval Bob asked, "Can we help him?"

"Not really," Tibbs answered. "He's having it damn tough, but unless he has a bad heart condition or something like that, he's in no danger. What treatment facilities there are will be overloaded already: it's not as though we were denying him something."

"And, of course, if we do pass the word we*U both be dead on the street for months to come."

"Years, probably," VirgU said. "We can't afford it. That's the main consideration, of course." He stopped and looked as far as he could in both directions. "The panic's on, no doubt about that. That means that there are, or will be, hundreds more like him hidden away somewhere to go through their agonies, and more who are still on their feet out trying to make a buy somewhere. They'll put up the last thing they own for any kind of a bag at all."

"I know," Bob agreed. "I had one a few weeks back- heroin addiction in an eleven-year-old girl. A boy gave it to her-^he was fifteen."

Virgil reached the car and unlocked it. "The hell of this damn business is that the public has no idea what goes on and wouldn't believe it if they were told. Let's go home."

He climbed in and seated himself behind the wheel. Bob noted how his lips were pressed together and understood- as he had many times in the past. He got in without comment and was glad when the vehicle began to move. The area was fearfully depressing to him and the image of the man fighting pain on the floor of the dirty garage would not get out of his mind.

Two blocks farther on Virgil stopped for a light While 100

they waited for it to change Bob noticed two men talking together in a darkened doorway; the one who was facing toward the street was shaking his head; then he held his hands out expressively to show nothing. The light came green and they moved forward once more. The car accelerated up to the legal speed; then Virgil began to apply the brake. Bob looked back quickly and saw the red lights on the patrol car that was behind them. That meant another two or three minutes shot to hell. Normally he was not impatient, but the neighborhood was beginning to get him down and he wanted to get it behind him and out of his sight if not his mind.

Obediently Tibbs pulled over and stopped. The cruiser drew up behind him and both of the uniformed men it contained got out, fitting on their caps as they did so. Bob knew exactly what to expect and he was not disappointed — one of them came up to talk to Tibbs while the other came up on the right and opened the car door. "Would you get out please, sir," he said, and motioned with a flashlight he held in his hand.

Bob drew breath, but then for the moment decided to hold his peace. This was Virgil's party and he was willing to let his partner call the signals. Just to make things interesting he deliberately swayed a little when he got to his feet and managed to look properly confused. The officer spoke to him again. "Will you step over here, please, sir." Just before he moved out of hearing range he caught Virgil's heavily accented speech, "Ah ain't done nuthin' mister, what-cha wan' me for?"

Since that was the way it was to go. Bob gladly played along. As he walked he managed almost to trip himself and then stood waiting. Promptly the ofiBcer pulled a card out of his pocket and began to read. "I am about to give you a sobriety test, but before I do so I will inform you of your rights. Do you understand me?"

When he required it Bob could produce a Japanese accent in any one of several expert variations. He nodded his head a Uttle uncertainly and then said, "Speak most slowly, please."

In response the uniformed man read from the card, pronouncing each word as carefully as he was able. As a result he overpronounced and Bob was, behind his wooden face, duly amused. But not a vestige of it appeared externally. Then Bob was asked to stand with his feet together, to hold out his arms horizontally, and then to touch the tip of his nose with his right forefinger. It took him some seconds of

apparent motor difficulty to get into the required position; after that he brought his right arm in and tapped his nose with careful precision.

Next he walked down a crack in the sidewalk on request, fumbling his way into position and then performing with maddening correctness for the specified distance.

The officer led him back to the car. There his partner was carefully interviewing Tibbs and had read him his rights as well. "I want to ask your cooperation." he was explaining. "I would like to have your permission to look through your car."

"Ain't nuthin' wTong with ma cah," Virgil responded, and then visibly brushed imaginary perspiration from his forehead.

"Tm sure there isn't, but may I look at it am^way?"

"lf n yah sure, what-cha wan' to look at it fo'?"

"Let's just say that Fm curious."

Tibbs shrugged. "OK, then."

The search occupied the next five to ten minutes. At the end of that time the man who had been interviewing Tibbs finally looked up satisfied. "Thank you for your cooperation," he said. tr›'ing to conceal a certain disappointment.

"That's quite all right," Virgil told him. "We don't mind in the least And you did search very well. Next time check up under the dash and don't forget the undersides of the fenders as well. That's a hiding place that's been used quite a bit lately."

The officer straightened up and looked at him. *'What did you say that your name was?"

"I don't recall that you asked me."

"All right, m ask-what is your name?"

"Tibbs."

"And where are you from, Mr. Tibbs?"

"Pasadena."

"I see." He took his time, several seconds of it, quite deliberately. "That would be Mr. Virgil Tibbs, I take it."

"Remarkable," Tibbs said. "You amaze me."

"I go to the movies sometimes. I seem to recall, though, that you were supposed to be from Philadelphia."

"No way."

The officer relaxed. "OK, it's on us-we get days like this every now and then."

Virgil laughed. He let his head go back, and some of the tension that had been building up for hours ebbed out of him. "We're buying the coffee," he said, "if there's a decent place where we won't be spotted.'*

"There is, Virgil, believe it or not It's a couple of miles: follow us."

The all-night stand was the ultimate in unsophistication, but the coffee was hot and exceUent. The pastry was fresh and better than would be expected, so for the next half hour the four men sat together and exchanged shop talk. Why did you stop us?" Bob asked. "We saw you while you were waiting for the light We've had the word that there's a highly dangerous new narcotic out on the street and to stop it at all costs. The only information we have to go on is that the distributor is supposed to be a Chinese. So considering the hour and the location, you looked like a good prospect"

Bob nodded. "You were alert. When I heard them talking about Chinamen, I wondered if I might get elected somewhere along the line. Not everyone can teU the difference-very few, as a matter of fact."

One of the uniformed officers stood up. "We've got to get back to work," he said. "It's a bad night; several drugstores have been broken into and four or five doctors' offices have been hit. It's going to get worse."

Presently the two cars pulled away from the all-night restaurant: the patrol car to go back into the Central Avenue district, the ancient Chevrolet to return up the freeway mto Pasadena. "Virgil," Bob asked, when they were well on their way, "do you see any light in this thing at all?"

"Some,' Tibbs replied. "I got one idea tonight that may lead to something. We didn't waste our time-and thanks for your help."

"I didn't do anything."

"Oh yes you did; if I'd been alone it would have been a different story." He lapsed into silence then and remained that way unta Bob dropped him off in front of his apartment. He was bone tired by then, too tired to even think anymore. He undressed, stored his work clothes in a comer of his closet, and contemplated a shower to wash off the last traces of the area where they had been. He was too exhausted even for that, instead he crawled into bed and yielded immediately to sleep.

When he awoke his mood had changed. Frustration was beginning to eat away at his composure; he felt strongly

that his progress was too slow. After breakfast he set out to interview all of the neighbors of the late Mr. Wang.

His first six calls were nonproductive. Experience had taught him that in work of that kind it was necessary for him to identify himself immediately, otherwise the reactions he got were usually hostile. It was not particularly because of his color; the plethora of door-to-door salesmen who kept the homeowners of Pasadena under steady attack had built up a determined resistance to any kind of unexpected callers. At each of the six houses he had been accepted as a pohce officer after he had produced his credentials, but at only two of them was he invited inside. One housewife had kept him standing during the interview, but the other not only asked him to sit down, but also offered him tea.

"Our home was robbed a little over a year ago," she explained, "and your people were so helpful. And Mr. Thistle, I still remember his name, he caught the man who did it and got back our color TV for us. So anything I can do to help, please just ask me."

Despite her willingness, she had nothing to offer that was pertinent. She told how the neighborhood had been upset when "a Chinaman" had moved in, and how that feeling had dissipated when it had become evident that nothing was going to go to rack and ruin as a result. She herself had never met the man, but he had a reputation for very quiet living and impeccable conduct. She knew about Yumeko, but had assumed along with everyone else, apparently, that she was his daughter. It had helped that the few caUers that Mr. Wang had been observed receiving had all been Caucasians, which dispelled the suspicion that an opium den was operating in the area. Virgil finished his tea, thanked her, and continued his rounds.

Just before lunch he had his first tangible result; the woman who received him apparently was glad to have someone to talk to. Unlike the others whom Tibbs had interviewed, she had not reconciled herself to having an Oriental for a neighbor. "I can't say anything against him really," she declared, "but of course you know how they are-not being white people and all that." She hesitated. "I'm sorry if I offended you, but you do know-of course. Well, a while ago that girl went to five with him. She's a strange one, never shows her face and keeps the draperies closed all the time. I don't know what goes on in there, but I'm not surprised that you're asking. And these Chinamen coming and going all the time." 104

"How many Oriental people were there altogether?" Tibbs asked.

"Well, there was the old man himself, the girl of course, and there was a boy-a servant, I expect. He went to the supermarket all the time-I've seen him buying food there. But there were others. I saw two Chinamen going in there not many days ago."

"Could you describe them?"

"Who can describe Chinamen! Just two of them, that's all. They had on business suits and came together, that's all I can tell you."

"Did you happen to notice what kind of a car they were driving?"

"Well, yes-it was a new car and light-colored. I don't know what brand it was, they all look so much ahke nowadays."

"One more thing," Tibbs said. "Since you are very observant, you might have noticed this. Was either of the men carrying anything when they went into the house-or when they came out? Say a box, for example."

She shook her head. "I'm quite certain that they didn't take anything in or out. One of them might have had a briefcase or something like that, but nothing bigger. I just happened to be looking out of my window, to see if the postman was coming, when I saw them."

When he was satisfied that there was nothing more to be learned for the moment, Virgil thanked her and left. He made five more calls after that and on one of them obtained confirmation of the two Chinese who had been seen calling on Mr. Wang. Despite this, the finding was not too significant, in fact it was more than reasonable that Mr. Wang would have had Chinese callers from time to time. He went back to his office with the feeling that while he had not learned very much, at least he had disposed of an obvious duty and one which was part of a great many investigative procedures.

In the early afternoon he was back in court once more to give evidence; he sat there for almost three hours and was not called to the stand. When he finally got away, the day was effectively gone. It didn't help matters when he found on his return that a fresh pile of paper work had been left on his desk. He wrestled with it until it was well past quitting time and then, emancipated at last, he went out, got into his car, and went home.

The only work he did that night was to call briefly on

Donald Washburn and ask to see his jade collection. Once more he was politely received; he viewed a display of about twenty pieces of varying quality from good to superb and expressed his appreciation of them.

"Not all of them are what they should be," Washburn told him. "When I started out collecting I didn't know too much about jade and consequently I got stuck a few times. Not badly, but a few of my pieces are imitation, I know that now. Someday I'm going to clean them all out and have nothing but real jade and fine carvings. Francis Wang was going to help me with that, but of course he can't now."

"Is your son back yet?" Tibbs asked.

"Yes, he is, and we're most happy about it, of course. He's out right now, looking up some of his friends-not the wrong ones, I assure you."

Virgil turned to go. "Thank you very much for your time. I don't want to intrude on you any more than is necessary."

"You're quite welcome anytime, professionally or socially. If you want to talk to Robin for any reason, I'll set it up for you."

*That's very kind. I don't have any need at present, but I may want to talk to you again later."

"Fine, just let me know."

With that out of the way Tibbs went back to his apartment, kicked off his shoes, and stretched out with a drink. He lay full length on his davenport, his glass in his hand, and thought about Yumeko. She had a certain spunk that he admired very much, even though he felt that she was oversensitive about her heritage and mixed bloodstream. It was a sign of the future, her origin that was, a forecast of the day when people simply would be people.

He refilled his glass, and then settled down to study once more. He picked up the Chinese Jade Throughout the Ages and returned to his perusal of the Han Dynasty.

When he had been at that more than an hour his attention began to flag; it was heavy reading and he had had a tiring day. Rather than give up he began to turn the pages, looking at the color plates of some of the world's most distinguished jades and comparing them in his mind with those he had seen at the Wang house and in the several private collections he had already viewed. He remembered the variety of colors, the many different types of carvings, and the almost inhuman ingenuity that had been used in working some of the rare stones.

Then, at that moment, he saw it. He stopped with a 106

breath half drawn and then involuntarily opened his mouth as the pieces he had gathered, abruptly and without warning, fitted themselves together. He had worked some things out by a process of hard thought, but the big one had been in front of him all the time and he had not seen it. He had been stupid, stupid and blind as a bat! His telephone was right beside him: he picked it up and called the department

"This is Virgil," he said. "There's been a development. I don't want to go into it now, but I want an immediate watch put over the Wang house-front and rear. Set up a stakeout and keep it on. Do you have the address?"

"Right, Virg," came back from the night desk man. *'How soon do you expect action?"

"Anytime, we may have missed it already. I don't think so, but set it up as quickly as you can."

"Will do. What are the boys to look for?"

"Any and all comings and goings. Let the girl who lives there go out and in undisturbed. Also there's a houseboy-a Chinese about twenty-five or so; if he shows, all right, but let me know immediately. I'm at home. Anybody else, anybody at all, call me right away."

"Anything else, Virg?"

"Yes-don't intercept any normal traffic in or out of the house, but don't let anyone carry anything out, no package no matter how small. If anyone attempts that, stop them and use any excuse until I can get there."

"What have you got, Virg?"

"As soon as I can prove it," Tibbs answered, *T\q got myself a murderer."