her—not for a long time to come. He was still thinking about her when Virgil Tibbs calmly took command.
“Miss Mantoli,” Tibbs said, “we have only one excuse for disturbing you at a time like this: we need your help to find and punish the person responsible. Do you feel able to answer some questions?”
The girl looked at him for a moment with eyes that were red-rimmed and liquid, then she shut them and nodded silently toward chairs. Sam sat down with a strong sense of relief; he wanted very much to fade into the background and let Tibbs handle things.
“Perhaps it would be easiest if I began with you,” Tibbs said as he turned toward Eric Kaufmann. Were you here last night?”
“Yes, I was, for the first part of the evening, that is. I had to leave at ten in order to drive to Atlanta. It’s a long way from here and I had to be there early in the morning.”
“Did you drive all night?” Tibbs asked.
“Oh, no; I got in about two-thirty in the morning. I checked into my hotel there to get some sleep, at least. I was up and shaving when... when the call came through,” he finished.
Tibbs turned to the girl, who sat with her head down, her hands held tightly together in front of her knees. When he spoke, his voice changed a little in timbre.
It was quiet and matter-of-fact, but it showed an undercurrent of sympathy for the unhappy girl who sat before him.
“Were there any unsuccessful candidates for the position your father held who might have been... greatly upset by his success?” he asked.
The girl looked up. “None at all,” she answered. She spoke softly, but her words were clear, distinct, and unafraid. She had no accent whatever. “I mean really none at all. The festival here was his idea and there was never anyone else...” She let her voice trail off and did not attempt to finish the sentence.
“Did your father normally carry considerable sums of money with him—say, over two hundred dollars?”
“Sometimes, for traveling expenses. I tried to get him to use traveler’s checks, but he found them too much bother.” She looked up and asked a question of her own. “Was that what he was killed for—a few dollars?” she asked. There was bitterness in her voice and her lips seemed to quiver as she spoke. Her eyes grew wet again.
“I very much doubt it, Miss Mantoli,” Tibbs answered her. “There are three other strong possibilities, at least, that will have to be investigated. But I don’t think it was that.”
Grace Endicott interrupted. “Mr. Tibbs, I appreciate what you are doing for us, but may I make a suggestion: perhaps we can answer most of your questions between us and spare Duena. The shock has been a terrible thing for her; I know you understand that.”
“Of course I do,” Tibbs acknowledged. “After Miss Mantoli has had a chance to recover somewhat, I can talk to her—if I need to.”
Grace Endicott held out her hand to the girl. “Come on in and lie down,” she invited.
The girl stood up, but shook her head. “I’d rather go outside for a little while,” she said. “I know it’s hot, but I want to go outside. Please.”
The older woman understood. “I’ll get you a hat,” she suggested, “something to protect your head from the sun. You’ll need that.” As the two women left the room, George Endicott said, “I don’t like her out there alone. We’re well isolated up here, but until this thing is cleared up, I don’t want to take any chances—none whatsoever. Eric, would you please...” Then he stopped.
Sam Wood felt something pulse through him that he had never experienced before. Quietly he got to his feet. “Let me go with her,” he volunteered. He was almost twice Kaufmann’s size and he was an officer of the law, in uniform or not. The responsibility was his.
“I’m perfectly capable—” Kaufmann began.
“You will probably be needed here,” George Endicott reminded him. Sam took this to mean his offer had been accepted. He
“Miss Mantoli,” Tibbs said, “we have only one excuse for disturbing you at a time like this: we need your help to find and punish the person responsible. Do you feel able to answer some questions?”
The girl looked at him for a moment with eyes that were red-rimmed and liquid, then she shut them and nodded silently toward chairs. Sam sat down with a strong sense of relief; he wanted very much to fade into the background and let Tibbs handle things.
“Perhaps it would be easiest if I began with you,” Tibbs said as he turned toward Eric Kaufmann. Were you here last night?”
“Yes, I was, for the first part of the evening, that is. I had to leave at ten in order to drive to Atlanta. It’s a long way from here and I had to be there early in the morning.”
“Did you drive all night?” Tibbs asked.
“Oh, no; I got in about two-thirty in the morning. I checked into my hotel there to get some sleep, at least. I was up and shaving when... when the call came through,” he finished.
Tibbs turned to the girl, who sat with her head down, her hands held tightly together in front of her knees. When he spoke, his voice changed a little in timbre.
It was quiet and matter-of-fact, but it showed an undercurrent of sympathy for the unhappy girl who sat before him.
“Were there any unsuccessful candidates for the position your father held who might have been... greatly upset by his success?” he asked.
The girl looked up. “None at all,” she answered. She spoke softly, but her words were clear, distinct, and unafraid. She had no accent whatever. “I mean really none at all. The festival here was his idea and there was never anyone else...” She let her voice trail off and did not attempt to finish the sentence.
“Did your father normally carry considerable sums of money with him—say, over two hundred dollars?”
“Sometimes, for traveling expenses. I tried to get him to use traveler’s checks, but he found them too much bother.” She looked up and asked a question of her own. “Was that what he was killed for—a few dollars?” she asked. There was bitterness in her voice and her lips seemed to quiver as she spoke. Her eyes grew wet again.
“I very much doubt it, Miss Mantoli,” Tibbs answered her. “There are three other strong possibilities, at least, that will have to be investigated. But I don’t think it was that.”
Grace Endicott interrupted. “Mr. Tibbs, I appreciate what you are doing for us, but may I make a suggestion: perhaps we can answer most of your questions between us and spare Duena. The shock has been a terrible thing for her; I know you understand that.”
“Of course I do,” Tibbs acknowledged. “After Miss Mantoli has had a chance to recover somewhat, I can talk to her—if I need to.”
Grace Endicott held out her hand to the girl. “Come on in and lie down,” she invited.
The girl stood up, but shook her head. “I’d rather go outside for a little while,” she said. “I know it’s hot, but I want to go outside. Please.”
The older woman understood. “I’ll get you a hat,” she suggested, “something to protect your head from the sun. You’ll need that.” As the two women left the room, George Endicott said, “I don’t like her out there alone. We’re well isolated up here, but until this thing is cleared up, I don’t want to take any chances—none whatsoever. Eric, would you please...” Then he stopped.
Sam Wood felt something pulse through him that he had never experienced before. Quietly he got to his feet. “Let me go with her,” he volunteered. He was almost twice Kaufmann’s size and he was an officer of the law, in uniform or not. The responsibility was his.
“I’m perfectly capable—” Kaufmann began.
“You will probably be needed here,” George Endicott reminded him. Sam took this to mean his offer had been accepted. He
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