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."