"Good evening, Mr. Tibbs. Do sit down, please. We're about to have cake and coffee; in fact we've been waiting until you came."
"That's very kind of you."
"Not at all." As she finished speaking, a maid entered the room bearing a tray with individual portions of what appeared to be a tremendous chocolate cake made up of rich multiple layers. He was served with an oversized portion and given a sterlmg silver fork with which to eat it. When the coffee came it was provided in unusual cups which clearly had been imported from some designer's specialized collection.
"Now do tell me," his hostess invited, "are you here to arrest my husband?'"
"No," Virgil answered her, "at least not until after I've finished my cake. I don't see this kind very often."
"We have it made especially," Finegold said. "I got the recipe in Zurich; they know how to do things with chocolate there."
For no visible reason the conversation stopped dead at that point. Tibbs ate his cake, which was almost too rich for his palate, and drank his coffee which was an unfamiliar kind, but excellent. He had almost finished before Miriam Finegold broke the silence. "I can't wait any longer," she confessed. "Please tell us why you came. I heard you tell my husband that this is partly an official call."
"Very well," Tibbs responded. "I came to ask permission to see your jade collection."
"You mean that-really?"
Virgil nodded. "I assure you that I do."
"By any chance," Finegold asked, "are any pieces missing from Mr. Wang's stock?"
"Not to my knowledge," Tibbs answered, "and if I'd come here on an errand like that, I wouldn't have eaten your cake first."
"There are times," Miriam Finegold said, "when my husband can't forget that he's a lawyer. I hope you don't mind too much."
The attorney got to his feet "Let's look at the jade," he said.
There were seventeen pieces in the Finegold collection, all of them excellent. They were all miniature sculptures, of Chinese beauties, graceful animals, birds, and flowers. They varied in color; two of them were of a faint but clear lavender hue. Instead of being displayed together in a case, they were distributed about the jade room, so that the individual effect of each one was enhanced. They were all protected behind glass, but it was so artfully done that they seemed almost to be ready to be picked up and admired.
Tibbs turned to his hostess. "Is this your work?" he asked.
She smiled. "We did it together. We don't have too many pieces, but we like what we do have very much. Now that Mr. Wang is dead, I don't know whether we'll be adding any more or not. He seemed to give them a special aura of his own. He was a wonderful man."
"So I understand," Virgil said. "I know very little about jade, but I can appreciate beautiful things, and you certainly have a wonderful collection here."
After that he made the necessary small talk until he was able to excuse himself and return to his own car for the last trip of the day-back to his apartment.
Home at last he pulled off his shoes and flexed his weary feet. He had had a full day-too full. He mixed himself a drink, shed his coat, and took off his gun and holster. His handcuffs followed. Then he enjoyed the pure luxury of getting rid of his tie. He took a long pull at his drink and felt the alcohol coursing down his throat.
He turned on the reading lamp next to the most comfortable chair that he had, gathered up the two books on jade, and settled himself down to study.
He stayed there for more than three hours, taking occasional notes and learning some unusual things. When he finally rubbed his eyes and gave up for the day, he knew that jade was a whole culture in itself, one far out of the reach of a policeman's salary but fascinating nonetheless. He ate four cookies out of a box, drank a short glass of Seven-Up to slake his thirst, and went to bed.
In the morning nothing had gone away. None of the gaps in the layout he had made on the top of his desk had filled itself and the fact that the sun was shining did nothing to simplify his problems. He was eating breakfast when his phone rang.
He picked up the instrument and said, "Good morning."
"Good morning, Virgil, this is Frank Lonigan. How are you today?"
"Fine-I think. What's up?"
"Virgil, something has been developing here and we think that we ought to put you in the picture. It may or may not have a bearing on the case you're working on. Would you be free to have coffee with me in, say, half an hour?"
"Of course, why not. Where are you now?"
"Not too far away. How about Bob's near to the college?"
"All right; if it's too public we can talk in the car later."
"Good. See you there."
When the call had been completed, Virgil phoned the department to report when he could be expected. Then he finished dressing, rinsed off the dishes he had used, and left for his appointment.
Although he arrived two or three minutes early, Frank Lonigan was already there in a booth waiting for him. He rose to shake hands and then settled back down into the simulated leather upholstery.
When the order had been placed, Lonigan lit a cigarette and began talking. "Virgil, I've been in the narcotics control business for sixteen years, and I think that I know most of the answers. But lately there have been some developments that don't fit any pattern that I know. And while the connection isn't definite, it's entirely possible that they're related to the Wang murder."
"Don't stop now," Tibbs said.
"I won't. I don't know how familiar you are with our operation, but much of our work is overseas where we cooperate with Interpol and other police agencies to cut down the supplies at their source. Stopping illicit drugs at the border is the customs' responsibiUty; once they're inside, if they get here, then they fall under the jurisdiction of the local police authorities wherever they go and are m^arketed.'*
He stopped when the waitress arrived with coffee and sweet rolls.
"In this type of a setup, Virgil, we depend to a considerable degree on squealers-informers-who help us out, sometimes on a cash basis, sometimes for revenge or competitive reasons, and occasionally because they are responsible citizens who want to help. Therefore we make it a business to check out every tip that we get as long as it sounds at all reasonable. We've gone on a lot of wild-goose chases, but we've also bagged some important shipments. So in the long run it pays. Of course the information sources that we have set up ourselves are the most reliable and we have a good many people working undercover."
"I would expect so," Tibbs commented.
Lonigan broke a sweet roll and applied butter. "About five or six weeks ago we got a tip over the phone-anonymously-telling us about a certain shipment of merchandise that was coming up from Mexico. We got in touch with the customs people and alerted them. Without going into details, they intercepted sixty-three kilos of largely uncut heroin."
"Drugs are ordinarily off my beat,*' Tibbs said, "but that sounds to me like a mighty big bust. Approximately a hundred and forty pounds of heroin must be worth a tremendous amount of money-and it would probably supply the street traffic for months."
"Right in both cases, but that's not all." Lonigan ate more roll and washed it down with coffee. "This isn't an amateur business, you know. Whoever sent that heavy load of heroin up this way took his lumps and sent a replacement shipment by another route."
Virgil looked at him. "And you got a tip on that one too," he suggested.
"Right-from the same source as far as we can tell."
*The brotherhood will be looking for him-or her."
"That is certain. And I don't need to add that what I'm telling you is absolutely under the rose." He looked up as though he was not completely sure that Tibbs would know the reference.
''Sub rosa it is," Virgil agreed.
"Fine. With that understood, let me add a little more. We haven't been able to pin it down definitely, but we have been getting some input from the Far East that your murder victim was an importer of the stuff, in addition to his jade business."