In the Heat of the Night

conversation he had had with Ralph, the night man at the diner. It seemed to him it had been weeks ago. Actually it had been the night of the murder. “How about those two guys who jumped you?” Sam asked after a while. “I didn’t hear w hat happened to them.”
    “A guy named Watkins, a councilman, got them off. He told me if I knew what was good for me I’d shut U P about it, otherwise I would be booked for breaking the man’s arm.”
    “Do you think Watkins hired them?”
    "I hope so, because if he did, he’ll have to foot the Medical expenses for the guy who got hurt. There are supposed to be some others out looking for me now.” Tibbs said it calmly, as though he were commenting that it might rain in the next day or two.
    “I just hope they try it when I’m along,” Sam offered.
    “So do I,” Virgil admitted quickly. “It won’t be so easy next time. Judo is a good system but it can only go so far. After that you’re licked and there’s nothing you can do about it but take one or two out on the wav down.”
    “Does anything beat judo?” Sam asked.
    “Aikido is very good, especially for handling belligerent suspects when you don’t want to do them any physical harm. The Los Angeles police use it extensively. In a real fight when the chips are down, then karate is the last word. A good karate man is a deadly weapon.”
    “Are there any in this country?”
    Tibbs paused before answering. “Yes, I know some of them. A lot of the things you hear about karate aren’t true, it doesn’t ruin your hands, for instance. But as a method of protecting yourself, karate is the best thing there is in the way of unarmed combat technique. The training is severe, but it’s worth it.”
    Sam swung the car down Main Street and let the soft purr of the engine blend with the stillness of the night. He watched the picket fence of parking meters go by and then he paused to draw up to the curb across from the Simon Pharmacy. “Is it safe to stop here tonight?” he asked.
    "I think so,” Virgil answered him. Sam touched the brake gently and let the car drift almost by itself over toward the curb. When he stopped, the wheels were an even two inches away from the concrete facing. He picked up his clipboard to write.
    “We’ve got company,” Virgil said.
    Sam looked up, startled. Then he saw movement in the thick, silent shadows which filled the store entrance. A figure stepped out of the blackness and walked toward them. It was a very tall man, but he walked without making much noise. An instant later Sam recognized Bill Gillespie.
    The police chief bent down and rested his forearms on the windowsill of the car. “How is it going with you guys?” he asked.
    Sam found his tongue thick; it was hard to answer. “All right so far. Nothing unusual. Couple of lights on, but no indication of any trouble.”
    Gillespie reached down and pulled the rear door open. “I think I’d like to ride along for a while,” he said. He climbed in and shut the door. “Not much room back here,” he added as his knees pressed against the rear of the front seat.
    Sam reached his left hand down and notched the seat forward an inch or two to make more room in back. “Where would you like to go?” he asked.
    “I don’t care,” Gillespie said. “Virgil said he was going to point out the murderer to you tonight and I d like to see him do it, that’s all.”
    Sam stole a look at the silent man beside him. The realization had just come that for the first time in his police career he had a partner. And despite his color, Sam felt he could rely on him. Virgil could think and he would handle himself. Both might be necessary before die night was over.
    Sam slipped the car into gear, crossed the highway, and entered the shantyville section of the city. He drove slowly and looked as usual for dogs that might be sleeping in the street. He saw one and made a careful detour.
    The garage of Jess the mechanic was silent and dark. So was the little parsonage of Reverend Amos Whiteburn. There was a night light showing in the combination office and residence of Dr. Harding, who Ministered to the physical needs of the colored citizens °f Wells. The car bumped across the railroad tracks
    and started up the street that led to the Purdy house Sam debated what to do. Then he went ahead; after what had happened, everything should be quiet to- night. The Purdy house was dark and still.
    “There’s an odd feeling to this time of night,”