In the Heat of the Night (RosettaBooks into Film)

by John Ball

  Gillespie knew without looking that the bench was marked WHITE. However, it was past midnight and the station was deserted.

  “I don’t think it would make any difference,” he answered. “If anybody says anything, tell ‘em I told you to.”

  “All right,” Tibbs said.

  Gillespie took two steps away, then he turned. “Thanks, Virgil,” he said.

  “It was a pleasure, Chief Gillespie.”

  Gillespie wanted to say something else, tried, but couldn’t. The man before him was black and the moonlight accentuated the contrasting whites of his eyes.

  “Well, good night,” he substituted.

  “Good night, sir.”

  The chief thought of shaking hands with him, but decided not to. He had done it once and that had made the point. To do it again now might be just the wrong action to take. He walked back to his car.