Five pieces of jade

CHAPTER 7

When Virgil Tibbs pulled up at six-thirty almost to the minute in front of the house of the late Wang Fu-sen, he was driving his own car. He had changed into a pair of two-tone slacks and a sport coat; to complete his ensemble he had chosen a light-blue shirt and one of the new wide ties considerably bolder in design than those he wore during business hours. He walked up the driveway quite unconcerned about what the neighbors might think, and rang the bell.

It was a few seconds before Yumeko opened the door. When she did, Tibbs experienced a pleasant surprise; she had on a simple black dress which displayed her figure to considerable advantage. On it she wore an exquisite jade clip in the form of a long-tailed bird of almost living realism. The otherwise unadorned dress set off her very rich dark eyes, her black hair, and the deep hue of her skin. As Virgil surveyed her, he appreciated for the first time that she was, in her way, exotically beautiful.

"Good evening," he said.

Yumeko welcomed him inside. "I thank you for asking me," she said formally. It was very proper, perfectly polite, and remotely cynical. The hint was so slight that Tibbs was not sure whether he had read it correctly or not; her familiarity with English was remarkably good for a Japanese, but it was as yet far from perfect. He told himself not to try to read subtle nuances in her speech, remembering that she was expressing herself in what was to her a complex and very difficult foreign language.

"I'm glad you could come," he responded. He wanted to banish the stiffness, but it was too early. She had been raised under a different culture in a different environment; more than that, she was not yet over the shock of violent death and cold murder. At that moment he did not believe that she had, with her own hands, struck down her benefactor, but his experience told him not to allow his i›er-sonal inclinations to prejudice the objectivity of his work. He was more than stretching a point by taking a definite suspect out to dinner; he had justified it to himself by assuming that under social circumstances it might be easier to obtain some added information from her, but he knew that he had been rationalizing.

"Is it that you wish to go now?" she asked.

He gave her a half smile and said, "Why not." As he walked beside her to his car he was aware that she was not very tall. After he opened the door he noted the way in which she seated herself; she had a natural ease of movement despite the fact that she was far from being relaxed.

He got in behind the wheel and then turned to her. "Would you enjoy a Japanese dinner?" he asked.

When she looked back at him he noticed how large her eyes were despite their Oriental configuration. "You can eat?" she asked.

He noted the change in grammar and correctly guessed that she had translated literally from the Japanese. "Yes, of course," he said. "I like it."

He started the engine and began to drive toward the center of the city. He sensed that his companion was not interested in small talk, so he remained silent. In the back of his mind was the nagging thought that by inviting Yumeko Nagashima for dinner and the evening he was overstepping the bounds of police discretion. But he could not withdraw now; the girl was in the car beside him and his duty was clear.

The restaurant he had selected was located in the semibasement of a substantial bmlding not far from police headquarters. After the few concrete steps which led down to the entrance the atmosphere changed abruptly; with the Japanese genius for creating tranquil decorations in even the smallest space, the Uttle foyer had been made attractive and inviting. Inside, the restaurant itself calmly ignored the prosaic streets outside and contented itself with being a small comer of the Orient where food was served.

The hostess, appropriately clad in a pink flowered kimono, received them, checked her reservation sheet, and then guided them to a table in the dining room. "I'm sorry," she said, "I should have asked you. Would you prefer to have your dinner in the tatami room?"

Virgil looked at his companion and waited for her to

answer. "I believe," Yumeko said, in carefully phrased English, "that Mr. Tibbs might be more happy here."

The hostess looked at her once again and then, motioning for them to sit down, added a welcome in Japanese. The effect on Yumeko was visible: she replied at once, obviously grateful for the opportunity to speak her own language even if only briefly. To Tibbs the conversation was incomprehensible, but he noted the difference in Yumeko-in her sudden ease of speech and relaxation of manner. It was as though she had become a different person.

When the hostess had left, some of the warmth remained. "She is very nice person,'* Yumeko said. "She gave us a fine welcome. She forgives me my birth, I think because her husband is hakojin. I am sorry-that means that he is a Caucasian."

Virgil wanted to say something to her then about her ancestry, but he remained silent. There would be time enough for that later. Instead he picked up the menu and consumed a quarter of a minute in making his decision. "What would you like to have?" he asked.

Before she could reply a cocktail waitress appeared at their table and inquired about drinks. Yumeko shook her head "Please, no,'* she said. After Tibbs had declined for himself, she explained. "Once I became sorry for myself and had much to drink. I became very sick and my stomach reversed itself. Now I do not wish it anymore.'*

"That's as good a reason as any," Virgil said. "Why do it if you don't like it.'*

Yumeko shot him a quick glance at that and continued to study his features for several more seconds. She said nothing, however, and picked up the menu. It hid her face while she scanned it and decided what she would like to have.

"You do not mind if I eat real Japanese food?'* she inquired.

'That's why I brought you here.'*

When the waitress came she ordered in Japanese. There was some small discussion and then it was Tibbs' tvuiL "Sukiyaki," he said simply.

"Gohan?"

He looked blankly at her.

"I beg your pardon-^would you like rice?"

"Please."

The waitress produced an electric stove and plugged it in, ready for the ritual of cooking the sukiyaki at the table.

Then she brought clear thin soup in dark lacquer bowls and set down tiny dishes of Japanese pickles. She placed a pair of wrapped chopsticks beside Yumeko and provided Tibbs with both a set of sticks and conventional silverware.

Yumeko picked up her soup bowl, ready to drink from the rim. "I thank you for giving me this meal," she said. "I have not had Japanese food very recently."

"I'm glad you could come," Virgil responded. He studied his companion and tried to understand her. To him she was Japanese: she spoke the language and had grown up under that culture. Yet he was aware that she was half Negro and the tone of her skin was much like his own. He was unable to decide in his mind whether her difficulty lay in her mixed heritage per se, or in the fairly obvious fact that her parents had not been man and wife. As he sipped his soup he reflected on the point, then deliberately put it aside.

The waitress arrived with a platter of artfully arranged ingredients for the sukiyaki and a plain iron cooking utensil in which to prepare it. "What are you having?" Tibbs asked.

In reply Yumeko gestured toward the ample platter of meat and vegetables.

"I don't understand Japanese, you know that," he continued, "but I didn't hear you order it."

"I at first order something else," she explained. "Then when you order sukiyaki, I changed so as to be the same as you."

"Why?"

"It is more polite. Also it is easier for the waitress."

He looked at her carefully once more and wondered if she were capable of committing murder. There were strange combinations in hirnian beings, he knew that well, but Yumeko was an enigma.

He contented himself with watching while the waitress cooked their main course and then, with her own chopsticks, deftly served them initial portions in small bowls. Another girl arrived with a container of boiled rice and then came once more with tea. The service was smooth and efficient, just a trifle better than usual, perhaps, because one of the guests was at least partly Japanese.

The food was very good, enough so that it remained largely a silent meal while they ate. Virgil had little to say and Yumeko clearly had no intention of initiating any conversation. One thing he had been considering was the thought that she was entirely content to accept him as her escort. That in itself was of some significance; it indicated to him that

she did not attach the sins of her father onto all others who shared his origins. Perhaps she felt herself to be at least in part a Negro girl after all and if so, that was all to the good.

A little less than an hour later, as they were leaving the restaurant, he wondered quite suddenly what his next move ought to be. He had kept the matter out of his mind, but now it confronted him and he had to make a decision. He was rapidly weighing whether he ought to suggest a movie or else take her home when the girl herself resolved the matter for him. "Where do you live?" she asked.

"Not far from here. I have an apartment."

"You have roommate?"

"No, I live alone. There are several other police ofiBcers in the same building."

For just a moment Yumeko stood stock still as though preparing herself for something. Then she said, "We go to your rooms now?"

That surprised him; for a moment he was off balance. "Would you like to do that?" he asked.

"Let us go," she answered him, and turned in the direction of his parked car.

Tibbs thought hard during the short drive, aware that to a small degree he had been trapped. Taking the girl to dinner had perhaps been an indiscretion to begin with; he could not understand why he had issued the invitation in the first place. Obviously he had not been thinking clearly, or had not thought at all. Now he was committed to taking her to his apartment. The morals of the situation did not bother him at all; Cotton Mather had been out of the picture for some time. It was his own position as the investigating oflBcer that had him worried; if it was her idea to offer herself to him in return for full or partial immunity of one kind or another, he would have no choice but to take her home in an atmosphere that would be anything but pleasant. And to treat her with glacial reserve from that moment forward.

He decided to play it by ear. He puUed his car up in front of the attractively landscaped two-story apartment building, got out, and then held the car door open for her. He watched carefully as she let him help her to her feet, trying to read a visible clue in her behavior. For those few seconds, however, she remained completely Japanese and gave him no hint whatsoever. She walked behind him to the lobby of the building, then followed as he led her to the 58

second-floor apartment that he called home. He inserted a key, reached inside to turn on the lights, then stepped aside to allow her to enter.

She walked in a few steps, stopped, and then looked about her. The living room was in good condition; the cleaning lady had been in that day and had left things able to pass feminine inspection. The furniture, while not elaborate, was tasteful and of good quality. The room had been designed for comfort, not for show, and it appeared to better advantage as a result

*Tt is very nice," Yumeko said. Then she turned and for the first time saw the opposite wall. It was dominated by a magnificent painting, executed with such a remarkable use of color that it seemed to be almost radiant with its own light. It showed a vital, attractive nude young woman in an outdoor setting. Her finely formed head and features were set off by blond hair which had been captured with startling fidelity by the artist despite the fact that his rendition was not entirely literal. She looked out from the canvas with a clear and steady poise that was magnetic. The sunlight seemed to reflect from her bare shoulders while her firm, sculptured breasts underlined her femininity. The whole portrait appeared almost to possess a life of its own, once seen it commanded attention and retained it with a compelling power.

Yumeko studied it "It is very beautiful," she said carefully. "The painter, I think, he is very exceptionally good."

Tibbs stood quietly and waited. 'That he certainly is. William Holt-Rymers."

*T do not know this name." Yumeko still kept her attention on the picture. "But it is no difference. He is famous anyway-he must be."

"He is very well known."

"The girl," she said presently, "she is real I think."

"Yes, she is."

"You know her?"

Virgil nodded. "Yes, her name is Linda. Linda Nunn."

Yumeko looked at him for the first time. "You have seen her this way?"

"Yes, I have."

Quietly and with total composure Yumeko walked to the davenport and sat down. "She is your girl friend, I think also."

Tibbs looked at her calmly. "No, Yumeko, she isn't. I know her, but that's as far as it goes-fcH* many reasons."

He changed the subject. "You told me that you don't drink, but can I offer you any kind of refreshment? Something you might like?"

She clasped her hands in her lap. "If you can give me something that will not make me sick, I think I would like to have it. It would help me."

He did not fully understand that, but he nodded anyway and stepped behind his small bar in the corner of the room. "I think that I know something. If you don't care for it, just set it aside."

He reached for a bottle and uncorked it. That done he put some ice in a glass and poured out a ruby-red beverage. He carried it over to her and waited while she tasted it.

"It is very good, I like this."

"Good," he responded. He fixed a second similar drink for himself and then sat down, beside her but not intimately close. "Let me tell you about the picture. It was given to me by the artist after I completed a murder investigation in which both he and Miss Nunn were involved."

"He made it especially for you?"

"Yes, he did. And Linda posed for the same reason."

Yumeko tried her drink once more. "What is this?" she asked.

"Cherry Heering."

"It is good," she said once more. Then she looked again at the portrait. "After you are knowing her, I am ashamed; I will be a disappointment for you."

Virgil looked at her with some concern. "I don't imder-stand."

Yumeko lifted her shoulders slightly and then let them fall. "I do not possess such a body as that, I am woman, yes, but half Japanese. Therefore I am smaller across the chest. I am sorry, but I cannot help it"

Very carefully, and taking his time, Tibbs tasted a little of his own drink. Then when he spoke his voice was under careful control. "Yumeko, did you come here with the idea of going to bed with me?"

Her eyes were open and challenging. "Is it not for this that you asked me to come with you?"

"And you accepted on that basis?" he asked.

She resigned herself. "Of course. My mother instructed me about this country. We have our customs in Japan, you have yours also. I understand this." She picked up her glass.

"All right." Virgil turned until he was facing her squarely. "Now I will explain something to you. I asked you out, when 60

I knew that I shouldn't, because I felt sorry for what had happened to you and I wanted to give you a little pleasure. And because I thought that you would be good company. Do you understand that?"

"Yes, I do."

He drummed his fingers against the back of the sofa. "Now I go to bed with girls when I have the opportunity and things are right-I think that almost every normal man does. But for me just to buy you a dinner and then expect you to come through-I mean to go to bed with me-^just because of that would be. ." He paused and tried to find a word. "… Ungentlemanly."

Yumeko continued to look at him. "You did not expect?" she asked.

"Of course not. I asked you out for your company and that's all."

"But you know what I am!"

That settled it; he felt sure that he knew what was eating her, but he had tried to dismiss it. Now it was there in front of him and he would have to deal with it.

"Yumeko," he said, "I want you to come over here and sit beside me."

Calmly, and without emotion, she obeyed.

When she had settled herself against him, and he could feel both the warmth and the tightness of her body, he laid his arm across her shoulders and waited a few seconds until he could feel the first indication of relaxation-of her acceptance of the situation.

"Now I'm going to lecture to you and I want you to listen," he said. "Don't mterrupt me until I'm through- do you understand?"

She nodded her head, which seemed suddenly small beside his shoulder.

"My ancestors, whoever they were, came to this country from Africa some time ago. Not as you came, they were slaves; they were bought and sold like cattle, worked like hell in most cases, and were often raped. Then the country came a little farther up the road and that was done away with. After that all we had to do was to try and prove that we were human beings who were capable of doing normal things and that our color didn't run off onto everything that we touched. You ought to know all this, because half of your background is the same as mine."

He took a little more of his drink. "It isn't all over yet, of course, but if we can keep the militants from making us

hated everywhere we show our faces, it's getting better every day. The job I have, the fact that it was given to me, means something and you ought to know that."

He took a deep breath. "For centuries humanity has been living in little pockets all over the world; people kept to themselves because travel was difficult, or all but impossible. Nobody from here went to Japan, for example, for quite a long while."

"It was not allowed," Yumeko said.

"I know, that's part of it. Then came the airplane and later the jet engine. That changed everything; now you, or anyone else, can go to almost any part of the world in a matter of hours. People are meeting each other, mixing as they never did before."

He felt her go tight again. *T know this-I understand. But that does not help me. I am what I became and I cannot be anything else. And everyone knows."

He did not mean to, but he tightened his arm across her shoulder until she was almost in pain. "Yumeko, dammit, don't be so stubborn! Try to understand. A century ago- that's one hundred years-anyone like you would have been very strange, but it isn't true anymore. A century ago I couldn't have been what I am now; people would have thought me some kind of an animal that could be trained to do certain tricks, like shining shoes."

"But at least you were one kind of animal!"

Tibbs controlled himself and regained his self possession. "And so are you," he answered, "whether you know it or not. You're all human, all girl. I know you're a hybrid; so is all the best com-they raise it that way." He turned her around until she had to look at him. "How many people alive today, do you think, have absolutely pure blood of one kind or another? Not that many. And they're not the lucky ones, because when you start mixing strains you get a better product most of the time. In horses, in plants, and in human beings too."

He took hold of both her shoulders and his fingers almost dug into her flesh. "You're lucky as all hell and you don't know it. The chances of any one person being bom are billions to one against. The odds are dreadful even with the same set of parents. You beat all those odds and against a fearful handicap. Just remember that it took a miracle to make you alive, but here you are. Now enjoy it!"

He let her go and got to his feet. "I think I'd better take 62

you back now," he concluded. "Tomorrow is going to be a tough day and I have a murderer to catch."

He took her to her door. As he stood one step down to bid her good-night their heads were on a level. As he looked at her then he thought that she was damned attractive and she ought to know it. But he left it at that. She was stUl right in the middle of his investigation and his promise to himself that he was going to use part of the evening to get some further information out of her lay shattered.

"Keep your door locked," he advised her, "and don't let anybody in unless you know who they are. Even then be careful."

On that stem note he turned his back and left. There had been murder done in that house and untU he knew why and how, the shadow would hang dark and heavy over it and the girl who had just gone inside. Disturbed in his mind for many reasons, and with his self-confidence definitely shaken, he went back to his car.