Virgil studied the display for a minute or two and then announced himself as satisfied. "If I may have a receipt for the jade I delivered to you," he said, "I will be on my way."
Harvey seated himself at his desk and with a pen scribbled on a slip of paper. As soon as he had handed it over he led the way briskly to the front door and showed Tibbs out with the least amount of ceremony that the situation permitted. As the door was closing the phone began to ring.
As he drove back into Pasadena Virgil went over the interview he had just had. That done, he turned his thoughts to the girl who was living, alone now, in Mr. Wang's home. Her problem was a profoundly difficult one. Time might be the only cure-time in which she might mellow somewhat, 42
but more importantly, time in which society might come a little closer to evaluating people for what they were and not for their origins.
He stopped across from the house and noted the still tightly closed draperies that masked the front windows. As he approached the front door he was mildly surprised to find Yumeko waiting for him. The portal was half open and the girl herself was largely hidden behind it. When he was on the step she opened it wider to admit him and accepted the receipt that he handed her. She took it in her fingers but did not even glance at it; instead, her eyes were on his face and serious concern was written across her features. "I am glad that you have returned," she said.
The conclusion was obvious, but he asked anyway. "Has something happened?"
She led him silently into the living room and once more sank into the same chair. As Tibbs seated himself where he too had been before, she turned worried eyes on him. "Two men came," she said. "Also policemen. They asked me many, many questions."
Virgil did not like that; this was his case and if any of the other boys wanted to interview one of the principals, they should have cleared it with him first. "Did they give you a hard time?" he asked, his voice grim.
Slowly Yumeko shook her head. "Not hard. They were polite. But very persistent. They said they are coming back. I was frightened."
"Who were they?" Virgil demanded.
"Mr. Lonigan and Mr. Duffy," she answered.
CHAPTER 6
Mr. Aaron Finegold sat in his office chair with his long legs thrust out under his desk so that he was all but resting on the base of his spine. His narrow, dark face was capped by a thick mass of black, very curly hair which maintained some semblance of order only under continuous protest. His eyes were deep sunk and fairly close, giving the illusion that they were surrounded by permanent dark circles. Sometimes they appeared sleepy, on other occasions they had been known to suggest a raven with insomnia. With such strong features to support, Mr. Finegold required a nose of more than ordinary distinction and he possessed one. The total effect of his physiognomy was notable-it was an accidental part of his stock in trade.
"You wanted to see me," he said.
Virgil Tibbs had interviewed a great many people in the course of his poUce career, and lawyers were not new to him, in their offices or in court. He therefore looked back at Mr. Finegold with unperturbed composure. "I understand that you were the attorney for the late Mr. Wang Fu-sen."
"Yes."
Virgil laid his card on the desk. "I have been assigned to investigate his death; this necessitates some questions. May I have your cooperation?"
Finegold recognized the ploy and countered it. "I'm sure that you recognize my position and understand what I can and cannot do."
"Among the 'can's,' I trust, is helping me to find the person or persons who caused the death of your client."
That brought things to dead center. "Very well," Fine-gold said, "what do you want to know?"
"First of all, can you tell me if Mr. Wang had any relatives with whom I might get in touch?"
Finegold shook his head. "The only ones I know of are 44
behind the Bamboo Curtain, and I doubt very much if they can be located or written to."
"I have the impression that he may have left a considerable estate."
"I believe that is true. At least in terms of the jade collection he had. His pieces were excellent and very valuable."
"Can you tell me, sir, if there is a will."
"Yes, and fairly recent one."
Tibbs changed his tone somewhat. "You understand, Mr. Finegold, that inheritance is often a very powerful motive for murder."
A silent nod answered him.
'The value of Mr. Wang's estate might have encouraged someone to speed his demise."
The attorney sat up straighter in his chair. "That is true as far as it goes, but it is manifestly unfair. Putting it the way you did means that anyone and everyone who stands to benefit from Mr. Wang's unfortunate death also comes under a cloud of suspicion."
Tibbs crossed his legs. "Mr. Finegold, I didn't come here to spar with you and there is no jury to be impressed either way. I'm solely interested in finding out who killed your chent and why."
"All right, let's go on from that premise. What next?"
"On another topic for a moment: do you have any knowledge, or suspicion, that Mr. Wang might have been in any way involved in the narcotics trade?"
That brought his host up straight in his chair once more. "I'll give you a direct and unequivocated answer to that: absolutely not." He paused a moment before he continued. "I assume that you are not subject to racial prejudices against minorities."
Virgil looked at him, but said nothing.
"It's not precisely accurate to describe the Chinese as a minority, but they are in this country," Finegold went on. "However there are plenty of people ready to attribute to them certain classic vices that they are supposed to favor." "It's my turn to avoid equivocation," Tibbs answered. "I asked you that qtestion because I had a specific reason for doing so. That is confidential information and I will ask you to regard it as such.'*
Finegold surveyed him carefully. "Let me ask you something off the record if I may: if Mr. Wang were alive and weU today, is there any possibility that he might be in jeopardy in connection with illegal drugs?"
"Truthfully, I don't know. At the moment it is enough of a possibility that I'm checldng it out. Mr. Wang does not stand accused posthumously as of now, or if he does, I am unaware of it."
"Then let me say this: Francis Wang was as fine and honorable a gentleman as I have ever known in my life. I cannot even conceive of his having an enemy, although it is patent that he had one, at least. He was my trusted supplier of fine Chinese lapidary work, my client, and my valued friend."
"Francis?"
"Many Chinese, Mr. Tibbs, realizing that their names are sometimes difficult for Westerners, take an anglicized first name to make things simpler. Particularly if they are in any form of trade."
"If your relationship was as you suggest, and I don't question that, may I ask why you seemed reluctant at first to discuss the matter with me? You fuUy understood the purpose of my visit."
Finegold leaned back in his chair. "You have me cornered on that one and I will have to be candid with you. I am interested in protecting Mr. Wang's reputation, even after his demise, and I had that in mind. In addition, there is another consideration. You're going to find this out anyway so I might as well inform you now. Francis asked me to represent Miss Yumeko Nagashima only a week or so ago. Do you know this young lady?"
Tibbs nodded. "Yes, I've had that pleasure. You'd better tell me what kind of difficulty she's in."
"None that I'm aware of."
"You just told me that Mr. Wang asked you to represent her. Normally he would hardly do that for a houseguest without some reason."
"Mr. Tibbs, I hope that I'm never placed in the position of having to defend a guilty client in court against you. Miss Nagashima is something of an enigma; I don't know a great deal about her background, only that Francis Wang befriended her and very obviously was glad that he had done so. I seriously question that there was any sexual relationship between them and I also strongly doubt that there was any blood relationship."