Apparently Washburn did. "Let me put it this way, Mr. Tibbs: Robin never met Wang Fu-sen to my knowledge except on one occasion when he came to our home for dinner. And perhaps not even then. I have a vague recollection that my boy was not home that night. Most certainly if they knew each other even casually, it was totally without my knowledge."
Virgil drank his coffee and changed the topic. "You confided in me the fact that you are doing research here foi the Bureau of Narcotics and Dangerous Drugs. I don't wani to play games with you so let me put it directly: have yoi been working with keto-bedmidone?"
Washburn leaned back and drummed his fingertips againsl the top of his desk for a few seconds. "You couldn't have" hit on that one all by yourself," he said finally. "So you 72
must have been told. And by the Bureau. All right, the answer is yes. We've made some of the stuff here and it's been submitted to some tests. Even in the test lab, we lock it up in the safe overnight. And the people who work with it wear masks. It's pure hell."
Tibbs agreed. "I know that. What are its physical properties? In particular, what color is it?"
"White."
"A powder?"
"Tiny crystals."
"It's an injection drug?"
"Yes."
"Could a heroin addict use it in his usual manner?"
"Yes again. The heroin junkie could use his regular tools. If he did, God help him."
Virgil locked his fingers. "I want to ask you one more question that is vitally important. Please give me a candid answer; you know that I'll respect your confidence."
"I'll do my best."
"Mr. Washburn, do you have any knowledge, or well-founded suspicion, that keto-bedmidone may have appeared on the American market, particularly on the West Coast?"
Washburn more than took his time. "You are asking for highly confidential information, you know that."
"I do."
"You absolutely require it for your investigation?"
"I wouldn't have asked otherwise."
"Then I've got to accept your sincerity. As I told you before, I know who you are. Yes, Mr. Tibbs, it has appeared here and we're scared stiff."
"In Los Angeles?"
"Yes."
"When?"
Don Washburn moved in his chair in a way that showed his discomfort His jaw worked slightly and his lips were hard together. When he spoke, his voice was matter-of-fact and unemotional, but only because he had made it that way. "A few months ago. And since you are sure to note it anyway, I might as well add that it began a very few days after the Japanese girl, Miss Nagashima I believe her name is, came to hve in Mr. Wang's home."
CHAPTER 9
As soon as he was back once more in the spartan surroundings of his modest office, Tibbs sat down to do a piece of work that could wait no longer. From the top drawer of his desk he took out a small pad of paper, then he picked up a pen and began to wTite out notations. He put one on each slip of paper, using the green ink that he favored for this particular purpose. As he finished each one, he tore it off the pad and laid it aside. He kept at it until he had thirty-one individual memoranda ^Titten in his strong, precise hand.
Wlien he had them all ready he cleared the top of his desk of everything else, took off his coat, and then began to lay out the small pieces of paper like an elaborate game of solitaire. Occasionally he shifted the positions of one or two of the paper slips; sometimes he spent a considerable time before he made up his mind where a particular memorandum would be placed. When he had all thirty-one of them doN;vn, it could be seen that they formed an irregular pattern, with several conspicuous gaps.
After the layout had been completed Virgil sat still, his hands in his lap, studying what he saw before him. He had an urge for a cigarette, but he had given that habit up long ago. He rubbed his chin with his right hand, then put it back into his lap. Twice he moved the position of one of the slips of paper. Otherwise the diagram he had prepared remained as it was, with open spaces where there were not enough data to fill them in.
It was approaching six in the evening when Tibbs had a visitor. He looked up to see the tall figure of Bob McGowan. "Am I interrupting you?" the poHce chief asked.
"No, of course not. Sit down."
McGowan eased himself down into one of the hard chairs. 74
"I just wondered how things were going in the Wang murder. Do you see any light yet?"
Virgil motioned toward the display on the top of his desk. "I have some things; but there are too many gaps up to now. Actually there's a whole missing element, and untU I can get hold of it, it's going to be rough."
"Would you like to have me assign you some help?"
"I don't think so, sir. I'm not being a prima donna: it's just that as of right now it's a one-man job. In a day or two it may be very different."
Bob McGowan crossed his long legs. "Is there a narcotics angle?" he asked.
Tibbs frowned. "Yes and no; I keep running into strong suggestions, but nothing that I can pin down. If I had to bet I'd say that there's one somewhere, but there are contradictions too. For instance, everything that I've been able to get so far on the background of the deceased shows him to have been a man of exceptional character. And he was in more than comfortable financial circumstances-from legitimate activites."
"I understand that there's a young lady who was living in his home. Is she Hkely to be involved?"
At that moment Virgil was grateful for the color of his skin. He looked up with a poker face. "Right now I'd have to say that there's a very good chance of it, but I don't have anything definite on her either."
*That might be an angle to check a little more," McGowan said. "Why don't you spend some time with her, take her out to dinner."
Tibbs looked at his chief carefully, and read nothing in his features. "That's a good idea. I take it that it would be on my expense account?"
"Ill trust to your conscience, Virgil."
*Thank you. I won't overstep the bounds."
*T have complete confidence in you; I know you won't, not while the investigation is in progress." He reached across and pointed. "There seems to be a vacant space there. What goes in it?"
Tibbs allowed himself to smile. *That will be filled this evening, I hope. It's reserved for my opinion of Mr. Aaron Finegold's jade collection. I haven't seen it yet."
"Are you famihar with jade, Virgil?"
"No, sir, but I'm working on it."
The police chief got up. "Carry on. At least you can't
complain about monotony. Nudist camps, kids with guns, baseball teams, exotic young ladies from the Orient. ."
"Do you know what she is?" Tibbs asked quietly.
"She's a human being," McGowan answered. "That's enough for me."
"God bless you," Virgil responded.
Aaron Finegold met his visitor at the front door. "Good evening, Oflacer Tibbs," he said, "or is that the right title?"
"Let's skip the titles," Virgil suggested.
"Fine with me. Please come in. By the way, is this an official call or a social one?'*
"I'd be pleased if you'd consider it both."
"In that case, the bar is open. Have you had your dinner?"
"Yes, thank you."
"Then how about joining us for coffee and dessert?"
"An imposition."
"Not at all. As a matter of fact my wife is interested in meeting you. She finished a book recently, something called In the Heat of the Night."
Virgil groaned. "Not that again, please. I'm trying to live it down."
Finegold led the way into a huge living room luxuriously carpeted with a deep-pile white rug. From a long, custom-made sofa a tall, graceful woman rose to greet him. "Miriam, this is Mr. Virgil Tibbs," Finegold said. "My wife."