The Cool Cottontail (3 page)

The young doctor was close to being rude. He introduced himself then stood stiffly to one side. Emily Nunn realized immediately that he wanted her to see his disapproval, and just as quickly decided to let him stew. It was doubtful if he had turned thirty yet. She noted that and thought he had
a good deal to learn about people before he could be a real success in his profession.

“Please sit down.” She indicated the waiting table. “Linda, will you serve the rolls while I pour the coffee?”

Forrest took his place at the head of the table and motioned Morrissey to a chair beside him. The deputy eased himself down slowly with the air of a man who can fit himself in anywhere. The other deputy took his chair nervously and, for something to do, looked carefully into his empty coffee cup apparently to see if it was clean. It was.

Emily picked up an oversize electric percolator and, beginning with the senior deputy, filled the cups. She poured one at a vacant place and, turning brightly to the doctor, asked, “Do you take cream, sugar, or both?”

“Black,” the doctor answered tersely. It was a moment before he realized he had been trapped; since he had specified how he would like his coffee, he would now have to drink it. With the corners of his mouth held tight he came to the table and reluctantly sat down. Linda did not ask if he would like one of the freshly baked rolls; she put one on his plate.

As Emily turned to set the large percolator on the table within easy reach of everyone, Bill Morrissey reconfirmed that the big apron she was wearing did not reach completely around her body. He picked up a spoon and stirred his coffee.

Forrest broke his roll and asked Morrissey for the butter. “During the summer we have a lot of your people in and out of the park,” he commented. “Joe Thompson, Mike Marino, Ed Meyers, but I think this is the first time you’ve been here.”

“That’s right,” Morrissey admitted easily. “I usually stay at the station and answer the complaints. Heard a lot about
your place, of course.” He sipped his coffee and made a small decision. “About the only resort around here where we’ve never had a squawk.”

“That’s nice to hear,” Forrest acknowledged. “We don’t have a bar, of course, and that has its benefits. Also we’re pretty selective about our membership.”

Emily, her guests served, sat down at the end of the table and motioned her daughter to sit beside her. “Have you ever been in a nudist park before, doctor?” she asked pleasantly.

“No, I have not.” He bit the words off at the edge of courtesy.

“We get a lot of our people through medical advice, you know. It’s too bad you’re not married; otherwise we’d like to have you and your wife come out for the weekend as our guests.”

The doctor looked at her clinically. “How do you know about me?” he asked.

Emily smiled. “Single men are quite easy to spot—at least we find it so. Let me warm your coffee.”

As the doctor drew breath to decline, the gate phone rang. Linda rose quickly to answer it.

“This is Mr. Tibbs,” the voice on the line said. “I took the liberty of walking in past your chain to use the phone. This is the nudist camp, I believe?”

“This is the nudist resort,” Linda corrected. “Are you a member of any other nudist organization, here or abroad?”

“No, I’m not.”

“Are you married, sir?”

“No, not yet. I still have hopes.”

“I’ll be right out.” Linda hung up the phone. “Another
single,” she reported to her father. “Is
he
behind the times! He called this a nudist
camp
.”

“At least he didn’t call it a colony,” Emily said gently.

“Well, he’s a cottontail at any rate. I’ll go take care of him.”

“Did he give his name?” Deputy Morrissey asked.

“Tibbs,” Linda said.

“Now that I know what that word means, I can tell you he isn’t a cottontail.”

Linda looked at him for a moment, waiting for him to go on. When he gave no sign of further comment, she shrugged her shoulders slightly and confidently went out the door. As she started across the big lawn for the second time that morning, she recalled how many single men had applied at the gate, some of them very nice, others clearly not. Worst of all were the occasional cars filled with four or five men, all professing interest, all carrying cameras, and all with families that had been carefully left behind. But she had handled many would-be sightseers, and none of them frightened her. When she went to meet people at the gate, she knew that if she did not reappear or call in within five minutes, her father would be out immediately, to take over if need be.

When she reached the entrance, there was a plain black Ford sedan pulled up in front of the chain; standing beside it, a man was waiting.

Linda saw many things quickly. She saw that he was probably in his early thirties, that he was of medium height, rather slender, and dressed in a quiet business suit. But these were secondary impressions. The thing that she saw first, and which overshadowed everything else, was the fact that he was a Negro.

For an instant her confidence fled; she had never met a Negro applicant at the gate before, and she had no Negro friends. As a rule, if a single man presented himself unintroduced, she would automatically and courteously turn him away; it was the lodge policy. But if she did that now, the man might think it was because of his race, which wouldn’t be true.

Without knowing how, she sensed that he understood her embarrassment. He came forward a few steps and then stopped, meeting her halfway.

“My name is Virgil Tibbs,” he said. “The sheriff’s office asked me to stop by. I’m a police officer.”

Linda’s first sensation was relief—she would not have to turn him away. So this was Virgil! At that moment she remembered Deputy Morrissey’s remark that he was not a cottontail. Morrissey had been right; the joke was on her. As she unhooked the chain, she made up her mind that in a nice way she would get even with Morrissey. He could have told her what to expect.

“Come in, Mr. Tibbs,” she invited. “You understand that this is a nudist park. The parking lot for visitors is right ahead. Leave your car and follow the path to the lodge. I’ll meet you there.”

“Thank you,” Tibbs said. He got back into his car without further comment and drove in. As she replaced the chain, Linda thought that his voice was a nice one, moderate and controlled, and without any trace of an accent. She took the short cut across the grass once more and waited a hundred feet from the main building. She wanted to see how Tibbs would walk; she could tell a lot about people by the way they carried themselves, particularly when they were entering nudist
premises for the first time. As she stood there, the sounds of singing birds filled her ears and the air was rich with the sense of life and of growing things. It was difficult to remember that in the midst of all this a dead man lay down on the pool deck covered with a blanket. A man who might have been murdered.

When Virgil Tibbs joined her, she approved his walk as good. She felt that he had confidence—not the aggressive kind, but the bearing of a man who knows his way. It was also a quiet kind of confidence, the sort you have to look for to see.

The birds continued to declare that God was in his heaven and all was right with the world.

“The others are in the kitchen having coffee,” Linda explained. “Would you like to join them there?”

“It might be better if you showed me—where the trouble is,” Tibbs answered.

“This way.” She liked the fact that he put business first; her father had taught her the importance of that.

When they came out of the grove, she discovered that the deputies and the doctor had returned to the pool area. She had a quick odd reaction—they had done that so Tibbs would find them on the job. That made him something more, perhaps, than just a regular policeman.

“Are you a detective?” she asked.

“The Pasadena police call me an investigator,” he answered.

“An investigator is a detective, isn’t he?”

Tibbs looked at her and smiled a little grimly. “He’d better be if he wants to keep his job,” he replied. In a few more steps they reached the pool deck.

After nodding to the men, Tibbs lifted a corner of the
blanket, glanced at the body, and walked back a few steps to where Linda was standing. “Thank you for bringing me down here,” he said. He stopped at that point, knowing that she would understand he wanted her to leave.

Linda looked at him steadily. “The body is nude. I’ve already seen it. I’m not going to faint or act up just because he’s dead.”

Tibbs returned her look just as steadily. “If you were me,” he asked, “how would you feel about taking the covering off the dead body of a naked man in front of an attractive young lady?”

Without looking Linda sensed that Bill Morrissey was standing a few paces away watching and listening.

“That would depend on the young lady,” she answered. “Any young lady, I wouldn’t do it. But suppose that the young lady in question had lived eight years in a nudist park and looked on anatomy the way you look on a pair of shoes. Suppose she had thought of going to medical school. And suppose she wanted to learn whatever she could whenever she could. What then?”

Tibbs pressed his lips together and the corners of his mouth quirked. Then Linda followed him as he walked back toward the corpse, and she stood six feet behind him when the cover was removed. Despite her confident statement, she wondered just how she was going to feel, not knowing what they were going to do. She decided to keep her mind focused on watching the investigation and to keep all other ideas out of her head. It would be interesting to see how much she could notice and detect on her own.

She guessed the man’s age as fifty. His hair was well and recently cut; that probably meant he had not been living away
in the woods someplace. His face was full, clean-shaven, and, despite the look of death, she felt that he had probably been a nice man. If he had applied at the gate with his family, she would have passed him as far as the parking lot and called her father. She had a quick idea and looked at his nails. They were clean and well cut—didn’t look like a workman’s hands. He had been an executive—something like that.

She studied the white marks where he had worn bathing trunks; they had been briefs and to her practiced eye it was clear he had seldom if ever been out of doors without them at least. There was a scar on his body where he had had his appendix removed. She also made careful note of one additional fact.

The Negro detective was on his knees beside the body, his fingers pressing the cold flesh here and there, and once he opened the jaws and looked into the dead man’s mouth. Linda admitted to herself she would not like to do that. The thought of medical school, which had been a hazy one at best, retreated further in her mind.

Tibbs got to his feet. “You can take him away now,” he said to the ambulance driver. “I don’t know yet whether I’m going to be officially assigned to this or not. If I am, then I’ll want the lab and P.M. reports.”

The driver went down the short embankment to his vehicle and returned with a long wicker basket. As Linda moved back to allow more room, the driver and the junior deputy placed the body in the carrier. The body was heavy and Tibbs gave them a hand.

“Do you need us any more?” Morrissey asked.

“No, go ahead,” Tibbs answered. “I’ll look around a bit and wait for orders. Have them call me at the resort office.” He
turned to Linda. “Is your phone listed?” he asked.

“Of course. We have an ad in the yellow pages.” She supplied the number.

When the vehicles had gone, she remembered to offer the usual hospitality. “Come up and have a cup of coffee,” she suggested. “You can meet the rest of the family.”

“I’d like to do that,” he answered. “But I want to look around here a little first. Are you expecting any guests today?”

“We don’t have any specific reservations, but some people will probably show up. Perhaps quite a few.”

Tibbs looked up into the sky in the general direction of the sun. “Would you mind if I took off my coat?” he inquired.

“Here?” Linda retorted. “Well, what do you think! By all means. Put your clothes on one of the chairs and be comfortable. And use the pool, too, if you don’t mind the fact there was a body in it. The showers are right there.” She pointed.

In a moment she sensed his embarrassment and misread it. “Don’t tell me you’re worried about my being here—” she began.

Tibbs managed to interrupt her. “I said ‘coat.’ We have rules in the police department.”

“We have rules here, too,” Linda countered. “You’re an exception because you’re here on business.”

Tibbs took off his coat and hung it across the back of one of the chairs.

“Tie,” Linda said. “Compromise.”

“Do you promise to stop there?”

Linda giggled. “I promise.”

Tibbs undid his tie and laid it carefully over his coat. He
was wearing a short-sleeved white shirt; when he opened the neck, Linda thought he looked quite handsome. “Now aren’t you more comfortable?” she asked.

“I certainly am,” Tibbs admitted.

“See?”

Tibbs smiled. “Don’t waste your time in medical school; study law and develop your natural talents.”

“How about becoming a policewoman?” Linda asked.

Tibbs looked at her carefully. “All right, let’s say you are a policewoman. You know this area, and against my better judgment you have seen the body. Now, what are your deductions?”

Linda drew breath and gathered her thoughts. When she spoke, it was as though she were delivering a formal report. “The victim was a man approximately fifty years of age. He was not a laboring man—probably an executive. He took pride in his appearance—at least he was careful about it. I would say that he was neat in his habits. He wasn’t a nudist. On the whole, I would say that he was a nice man.” She paused and looked at the Negro detective. “How did I do?”

“Not badly,” he admitted. “You saw quite a few things. I had a closer look than you did, and have considerably more experience.”

“How much experience? Have you worked on murders before?”

Tibbs answered her patiently, “I’ve been a policeman more than ten years. Yes, I’ve worked on murders. I’m something of a specialist in crimes against persons—things like murder, extortion, assault with deadly weapons, armed robbery—”