Captain Carl Lindholm sat in his office chair, his elbows on his desk, while he contemplated the face of the quiet, well-dressed man who stood before him. “I know that you had a tough day yesterday, Virgil,” he said, “but I think we need a wrap-up on it this morning if you don’t mind.”
“Yes, sir,” Tibbs said.
“A couple of things first. One: you’ll be glad to know that the three men who pulled that double header are in custody. They’ve all got records and there’s no doubt about it.”
“I heard, sir. Congratulations.”
“Next, since Chief Addis moving up into the top spot the position of Assistant Chief has been open.”
Virgil held out his hand. “Congratulations again, sir. I’m delighted and I know that everyone else will be too.”
Lindholm stood up to accept the offered hand and the feelings which went with it. “You know what I think of you, Virgil. All I can say is that I hope you will be with us for a long, long time.”
“I hope so too, sir.”
The phone rang and Lindholm answered it. He gave a brief directive and then hung up. “The visitors are down in the lobby. Before they come up, are you sure of your ground?”
“Yes, sir, very sure.”
“Are the civil rights loopholes all plugged?”
“Absolutely, sir. I was present when Sergeant Wilson of the Anaheim police informed Dempsey of his civil rights. He was advised again here. An attorney is with him now.”
“Good. Now you’d better explain things to these people and clear up a few points. There’s one or two I want to hear you on myself.”
Five minutes later there was a fair gathering in the captain’s office. Ralph Hotchkiss was there with his son Billy, now a very chastened young man. He sat still in the chair that had been assigned to him and looked straight forward.
Mike and Maggie McGuire were fiercely self-conscious; Mike expressed himself by rubbing his hands together and looking carefully at everything visible in the room. Maggie held her son Johnny tightly by the hand and wished devoutly that it was all over. She did not want anything explained to her, she only wanted to be safely at home with her boy.
In quiet dignity the parents of Willie Orthcutt sat a little stiffly in the two remaining chairs. They were simply dressed, he in a threadbare suit which had nonetheless been carefully brushed for the occasion, his wife in plain unrelieved black which surrounded her ample figure with as much grace as it could.
When everyone was comfortably seated, the captain took quiet command of the meeting. “I want to thank all of you for coming here this morning so that we can help to clear away certain serious misunderstandings which, directly or otherwise, concern you all.” He turned toward the Orthcutts. “Let me begin by saying that I am very deeply sorry for the tragedy which came to your home.”
“Thank you,” Orthcutt answered simply.
“I sincerely hope that you may find a little comfort in learning the truth of what happened. If you wish to leave at any time, please feel completely free to do so; I have a car standing by that will take you home.”
“You’ve been very good to us,” Mrs. Orthcutt said. Despite her grief she was in control of herself and Lindholm admired her for it.
“Now I’m going to let Mr. Tibbs explain to you what happened; I think it’s very important that you understand this, even though it may be painful for Mr. and Mrs. Orthcutt. Part of a policeman’s job is to see that the guilty are punished, another part is to see that, insofar as possible, the innocent are not.” When he had finished he settled back into his chair and prepared to listen.
Virgil Tibbs looked at his audience with the air of a man who is prepared to speak, but only reluctantly. “I think the best way to approach this,” he began, “is to give you a more or less running explanation of what occurred. After that, if you have any questions, I’ll try to answer them for you.
“Some weeks ago Mr. and Mrs. McGuire moved here from Tennessee with their son. Mr. McGuire’s employment and prospects where he was were both limited, so he made the decision to move his family out here in the expectation of a better opportunity.”
He paused for a moment, as though he were considering which words would be the best for him to use.
“Like many other people, Mr. McGuire has a strong sense of self-sufficiency and, also like many others, he expressed his feelings in part by keeping a revolver in his home-loaded and ready for use. Specifically it was a Colt Chief’s Special, which is a particularly dangerous weapon. Unfortunately, he kept it where a child had access to it, told his son where it was, and to some degree instructed him in its use.
“To do justice to Mr. McGuire, I must point out that in keeping this unregistered weapon as he did, despite the great danger that it represented, he was entirely within the law, at least so far.”
Virgil stopped and waited, but Mike McGuire remained motionless and did not utter a sound.
“One of the real dangers of owning a gun is the incentive it provides to shoot it out with possible intruders-which is a quick and easy way to get killed. Most home owners are insured against burglary. If there is any shooting to be done, let us handle it-that’s our job. Private citizens aren’t asked to take such risks, and if you do, you can get into serious legal complications.”
He realized that he was editorializing and stopped. For a moment he stood, head down, his lips pressed hard together. Then he recovered himself and picked up the threads of the discussion.
“Two days ago Johnny McGuire took his small transistor radio to school. During the lunch hour it was snatched away from him and he was cruelly teased by Billy Hotchkiss. The end result was that the radio, which meant a great deal to Johnny, was broken in the scuffling. It was accidental and to his credit Billy offered to replace it immediately, but the fact remains that he was merciless in picking on someone younger and smaller than himself. For that he must stand responsible.”
He looked at Ralph Hotchkiss, who nodded and indicated that he wanted to speak. “What you have just said is true and justified,” he acknowledged. “Billy is still very young, but he certainly should have known better. I’m sorry that I didn’t teach him better manners. For his inexcusable conduct I’d like to apologize now, publicly, to Mr. and Mrs. McGuire, and particularly to Johnny.”
Without yielding to the temptation to do so openly, Tibbs watched the effect of Hotchkiss’s statement on Mike McGuire. The proud man from Tennessee would have found such an open declaration impossible, he would have considered it humiliating. But on his face now there was an awareness that Hotchkiss had gained stature instead of losing it. The habits and attitudes of a lifetime were battling against the hard lessons he had learned during the past twenty-four hours; conciliation came very hard to him.
He made an effort, struggled, and succeeded. “I’ll pay for the window Johnny broke,” he said, “and for whatever else he busted.”
Ralph Hotchkiss was no fool; he knew as well as Virgil did how hard that speech had been for Mike McGuire to make. He brushed his hand through the air to indicate that it was no matter. “I don’t think you’ll have to,” he said. “The insurance company has already replaced the window and the rest was negligible.”
Mike was relieved that he had been able to do the right thing without it costing him any money. “I’m to blame for what you went through,” he added. “And Maggie and me, we’re sorry.”
Anxiously Maggie nodded to indicate her agreement.
Ralph Hotchkiss accepted gracefully. “Let’s call it even,” he proposed, and then turned back toward Tibbs, who was patiently waiting for this side discussion to end. When the room was again quiet, he continued.