We found Aunt Zell and Uncle Ash, and after dancing to “Moonlight Becomes You”—“I’m sensing a theme here,” Uncle Ash said dryly—we took a turn around the floor with Luther and Louise Parker to the tune of “Blue Moon.” He’s the district’s first black judge and he was resplendent tonight in a tux with a red-and-gold cummerbund that matched Louise’s long gown.
We returned to our table a moment before Avery and Portland got back, too. Even though the ice had melted in our drinks, they still tasted good after the dancing.
The waiters began to bring out our plates and the band took a break while we ate. I chose the poached salmon and Dwight took the stuffed chicken breast so that we could eat off each other’s plate if one entree proved less tasty than the other. Por and Avery did the same and Avery insisted on treating us to a bottle of Riesling so that they could toast our anniversary and we could toast the birthday of their daughter, who was home being spoiled by Por’s parents.
With mischief dancing in her dark eyes, Por looked up from buttering her roll and said, “I hear you got a Christmas present this morning.”
I paused with a forkful of dill-dressed salmon in midair, unsure what she meant. “I did?”
“Didn’t Dwight tell you?”
“Tell her what?” he asked.
“Don’t you get a morning report of everyone who’s been arrested overnight?”
“We get it, but I don’t always read it when we’re as busy as we’ve been these last two days,” said Dwight.
“So neither of you know that Zack Young has a new client?”
“Don’t gloat, honey,” Avery said, cutting into his breast of chicken.
“Who?” we both asked her.
“Philip Hamilton.”
“Ellen Englert Hamilton’s seventeen-year-old son. He got pulled last night for a DWI. Blew a point-twelve’s what Gwen told me.”
Gwen Utley’s a magistrate who keeps a jaundiced eye on everything that happens in the courthouse.
“You’re kidding,” I said.
Portland shook her head. “Gwen never kids. She says that the first thing Ellen did when she came down to bail him out early this morning was call Zack Young. The second thing she did was resign from being president of the Colleton County MADD chapter. When it comes to throwing the book at a DWI, it would appear that being a mom trumps everything else.”
Okay, it was mean of us. It was petty and uncharitable and totally callous. Nevertheless, Portland and I high- fived each other right there in the Dobbs country club and Avery had to catch the wine bottle we almost knocked over.
“We must be getting old,” I said as we drove home that night. “There was a time when I’d’ve been embarrassed to leave a dance before midnight.”
Portland had started yawning at nine-thirty, and when they decided to pack it in at ten, Dwight and I realized we were ready to head on home, too.
As promised, I called Jess to let her know we were on our way.
“Any progress in the Wentworth murders?” I asked once we had cleared town and were back in the country. I had been shocked to hear that those two bodies had lain exposed to the freezing rain and sleet for almost three days and he had amused me by describing Mrs. Alma Higgins of the four husbands.
Now I listened while Dwight described how they seemed to have hit a dead end after he realized that the brothers had probably been jacklighting deer again and that Faison confirmed it. “Faison did give us the name of a guy who had potential as our killer.”
“But?”
“But he was in your court Friday morning and you gave him jail time.”
“Oh. Sorry about that.”
“Me, too. But you know all that equipment that was missing from the Welcome Home store? I forgot to tell you. We found it in a shed back of Jason Wentworth’s trailer. And it turns out that Matt Wentworth’s friend Nate Barbour used to work at the store.”
“He say what they did with the concrete Jesus?” I asked.
“No. But then he claims not to know anything about the shed or the thefts.”
That reminded me of the defendant who wanted his jail terms to run concurrently because his daughter had the smiling mighty Jesus.
Dwight laughed out loud at that and we were in a good mood as we drove into the yard to find some eight or ten vehicles, not just the kids’ but some of their parents.
“What’s happened?” he asked.
I started to panic when I saw Seth, who’s five brothers up from me, come around the corner of the house alone. He was hatless as usual, and before he could meet us at the porch steps, I smelled smoke on his denim jacket.
“What’s wrong?” I called.
And Dwight said, “Where’s Cal?”
