Tibbs nodded. “Yes, I believe I am.”
Gillespie bristled with suspicion. “Tell me about it,” he ordered.
“I’ll be glad to, Chief Gillespie, as soon as I’m able. What I have now isn’t pinned down tight enough to bring it to your attention. As soon as it is, I’ll report to you in full.”
Stalling, Gillespie thought to himself. Won’t admit it. He let the matter drop. Arnold put his head in the door.
“Mr. Gottschalk is here to see you, Chief.”
“Gottschalk?”
“The gentleman with the pink California Pontiac.”
“Oh. Ask him to come in.”
Gottschalk appeared in the doorway before Virgil Tibbs could leave. He was a middle-aged man and portly, with a crew haircut and a capable air. “Am I in trouble?” he asked abruptly.
Bill Gillespie waved him to a chair. “I don’t think so, Mr. Gottschalk. But I would appreciate it if you could spare me a little of your time. We had a murder here a couple of nights ago and we thought you might possibly shed some light on it for us.”
As soon as Gillespie finished speaking, Virgil Tibbs turned around in the doorway, came back into the office, and sat down. Gillespie noted it, but did not comment.
“Your name is Gottschalk, I believe?” Gillespie asked. It was clearly an invitation to supply additional information. Gottschalk reached into his breast pocket, removed his wallet, and laid a business card on Gillespie’s desk.
“May I have one?” Tibbs requested.
“Oh, certainly.” Gottschalk handed over the card. “You are … ah … on the force?”
“My name is Virgil Tibbs. I’m investigating the murder Chief Gillespie mentioned.”
“Excuse me, I didn’t understand.” Gottschalk held out his hand. The two men shook hands without rising. Then Tibbs sat back quietly, waiting for Gillespie to go on. Arnold appeared again in the doorway. “Ralph is here,” he said tersely. Gillespie hesitated, started to rise as if to leave the room. Just then Ralph appeared in the doorway, looked at Gottschalk, and pointed dramatically. “That’s him,” he declared.
Gillespie sat down again. Gottschalk craned his neck to look at Ralph and then turned back, frankly bewildered.
Arnold remained in the doorway, hesitant as to what to do.
“What about this gentleman, Ralph?” Gillespie asked easily.
The counterman took a deep breath. “Well, I forgot all about it until he showed up again, but this fellow, I mean him there, was in the diner the night of the murder, ‘bout forty-five minutes before Mr. Wood came in.”
“I don’t understand any of this,” Gottschalk said.
“Before he came in I was mopping up the front of the place,” Ralph went on, “so I would have seen any other cars that went by. His was the only one.”
“Did you notice which direction he came from?” Gillespie asked.
“Yeah, he was goin’ south.”
“Go on.”
“Well, I found out later that Sam-I mean Mr. Wood-found the body of the Italian fellow right in the middle of the highway. No other car went through after this fellow did until Mr. Wood found the body.” Ralph paused and gulped. “So I figure he done it.”
Gottschalk sprang out of his chair with astonishing speed for a man of his bulk. Then he sensibly sat down again.
Bill Gillespie had an inspiration. “It’s all yours, Virgil,” he said, and leaned back. The idea of having a whipping boy available who could take none of the credit, but all of the blame in the event of a misfire, was beginning to appeal to him. And while he did not like to admit it to himself, he knew that Tibbs had something on the ball. How much he was not yet prepared to estimate, but the unhappy suspicion lurked that Tibbs might be better than anyone on the local force, which included himself. Gillespie felt much as a student pilot does who is sure he knows how to fly but who, faced with an unexpected situation which he has never before been called upon to meet, dearly wishes to have his instructor take over the responsibility. Gillespie had never had an instructor on whom to rely, which made it just a little bit worse.
“I see by your card, Mr. Gottschalk,” Tibbs began, “that you are a field-test engineer.”
“That’s right,” Gottschalk replied in a reasonable tone of voice. “We’ve heavily tied in with the work at the Cape. I was on my way down there when I passed through here.”
“To be at the shoot they had yesterday?”
“Yes, that’s right, Mr. Tibbs.”
“What’s the Cape?” Gillespie interjected.
“Cape Kennedy.”
“Oh, of course.” Gillespie nodded to Tibbs to go on. Then he glanced over at Ralph. The counterman was standing with his mouth partway open, as though struck by the fact that the man at whom he had pointed the finger of suspicion had something to do with the spectacular events about which he had read in the papers.
“After you stopped at the diner, Mr. Gottschalk, did you continue on south through the city?”
“Yes, I did. I stayed right on the highway. In fact I didn’t stop until I needed gas about a hundred and fifty miles or so down the line.”
“What is your security clearance, Mr. Gottschalk?” Tibbs asked.
“Secret and Q.”
“Then you have done, or are doing, nuclear work.”
“Yes, that’s right. Our company has several contracts in the field.”
“To clear up a point, may I ask why you were driving at that hour instead of flying down or possibly taking the train?”
“That’s a reasonable question, Mr. Tibbs. I drove down this time because I hoped to have my wife join me and we would take a week on the Keys after the shoot. That is, if it went well. I can only say generally that after the shoot it was necessary for me to go back to the plant, which is why I am here now.”
“In other words, you drove down so you would have your car available in case Mrs. Gottschalk could join you for a week’s vacation?”
“Exactly.”
“And the reason for driving that late?”
“The heat. It was fierce. I don’t have air-conditioning in the car, so I chose to drive at night, at least as much as I safely could, in order to be a little more comfortable.”
“Then the only thing left to ask you, sir, is whether or not, in driving through Wells, you noticed anything unusual in any way. I’m assuming you didn’t see a body in the road or you would have stopped. But did you see anything else that might be helpful? Any pedestrians? Any signs of any sort of activity?”
Gottschalk shook his head. “I’m not trying to hold out on you to avoid involvement, but I truthfully didn’t see anything at all. In fact, if you will excuse my saying so, the town appeared completely dead to me.”
Tibbs rose. “You have been very helpful, sir, and we appreciate your willingness to take the time on our behalf.”
Gottschalk swung to his feet. “Am I free to go now?”
“Of course, sir. Technically you were free to go at any time and did not need to come here. I hope it was made clear to you that this was strictly a request.”
“Frankly,” Gottschalk replied, “that wasn’t the impression I got. I thought I had fallen into one of those local speed traps or trick-ordinance gimmicks that you hear about. I fully expected to have to pay a fine.”
“Chief Gillespie and the other responsible leaders of this city don’t do things like that. Let me say officially that you are not under suspicion in any way.”
“That’s a relief; I wish all cops were like you. And if I may say so without offense, I’m glad to see that democracy has hit the South in something besides the political sense. Good-bye, gentlemen.”
The office cleared, but Gillespie motioned to Tibbs to remain. He did not invite him to sit down again, so Tibbs stood waiting until the others were well out of range. Then Gillespie picked up a pencil and began to roll it between his fingers. “Virgil, I let you go ahead with the interview since you are supposed to be handling this case, but do you think it was the smart thing to tell that man that he was officially clear of any suspicion? He works for a very important company. If he reports that back to them, and he might do just that, then what are you going to do if you find out he knows more than he told us just now?” Gillespie leaned back in his chair. “Consider this if you haven’t already. This man drove south through town, by his own admission right past the place where Sam found the body-I mean where Mr. Wood found the body. And no other car was seen to go either way after that. Sure he doesn’t look guilty on the face of it, but he was at the scene of the crime at approximately the time of the crime. You remember, don’t you, what the doctor said about the time of Mantoli’s death. He fixed the time at just about the very moment that your friend Gottschalk was driving through. And you told him he was officially cleared of all suspicion.”