“Did he blow for you?” I asked.
“Yes, ma’am. He registered a point-oh-five, three points below the legal limit. And there was nothing out of the way about his speech or appearance, other than the speeding. He stated that was because they’d promised the babysitter they’d be home before midnight and they were late. The vehicle was registered in both their names and Mr. Barefoot showed me his license before court took in this morning.”
When it was his turn to speak, Barefoot freely acknowledged that he’d been driving way too fast, said he was sorry, and requested a prayer for judgment.
“Any previous violations?” I asked the trooper.
“I believe he has one speeding violation. About three years ago. Sixty-four in a fifty-five zone.”
“Only one?” That surprised me because this Edward Barefoot sure looked like a racehorse.
“Just one, your honor,” the trooper had said.
“Another week and his only violation would have been neutralized,” I told Dwight now as I refilled my glass of iced tea, “so I let him off. Phyllis Raynor was clerking for me this morning and she or Tracy might have a better fix on the time, but I’d say he was out of there by eleven-thirty.”
“That late, hmm?”
“You’d like for it to be earlier?”
“Well, we think she was killed sometime mid-morning and that would give us someplace to start. Not that we’ve heard of any trouble between them, but you know how it is — husbands and boyfriends, we always look hard at them first. Barefoot says he got a chicken biscuit at Bojangles on his way out of town, and then drove straight to work. If he got to his job when he says he did, he didn’t have enough time to drive home first. That’s almost fifty miles. And if he really was in court from nine till eleven-thirty—?”
“Tracy could probably tell you,” I said again.
According to Dwight, Chastity Barefoot had dropped her young daughter off at a day care there in Black Creek at nine-thirty that morning and then returned to the little starter home she and her husband had bought the year before in one of the many subdivisions that have sprung up since the new interstate opened and made our cheap land and low taxes attractive to people working around Raleigh. She was a part-time receptionist for a dentist in Black Creek and wasn’t due in till noon; her husband worked for one of the big pharmaceuticals in the Research Triangle Park.
When she didn’t turn up at work on time, the office manager had first called and then driven out to the house on her lunch hour because “And I quote,” said Dwight, “‘Whatever else Chass did, she never left you hanging.’”
“Whatever else?” I asked.
“Yeah, she did sort of hint that Miz Barefoot might’ve had hinges on her heels.”
“So there was trouble between the Barefoots.”
“Not according to the office manager.” Dwight slapped at a mosquito buzzing around his ears. “She says the poor bastard didn’t have a clue. Thought Chass hung the moon just for him. Anyhow, Chass’s car was there, but the house was locked and no one answered the door, so she left again.”
He brushed away another mosquito, drained his tea glass and stood up to go. “I’ll speak to Tracy and Phyllis and we’ll check every inch of Barefoot’s alibi, but I have a feeling we’re going to be hunting the boyfriend on this one.”
That would have been the end of it as far as I was concerned except that Chastity Barefoot’s grandmother was a friend of Aunt Zell’s, so Aunt Zell felt she ought to attend the visitation on Wednesday evening. The only trouble was that Uncle Ash had to be out of town and she doesn’t like to drive that far alone at night.
“You sure you don’t mind?” she asked me that morning.
On a hot Wednesday night, I had planned nothing more exciting than reading briefs in front of the air conditioner in my sitting room.
I had originally moved in with Aunt Zell and Uncle Ash because I couldn’t afford a place of my own when I first came back to Colleton County and there was no way I’d have gone back to the farm at that point. I use the self-contained efficiency apartment they fixed for Uncle Ash’s mother while she was still alive, with its own separate entrance and relative privacy. We’re comfortable together — too comfortable say some of my sisters-in-law who worry that I may never get married — but Uncle Ash has to be away so much, my being there gives everybody peace of mind.
No big deal to drive to the funeral home over in Harnett County, I told her.
It was still daylight, another airless, humid evening and even in a thin cotton dress and barefoot sandals, I had to keep the air conditioner on high most of the way. As we drove, Aunt Zell reminisced about her friend, Retha Minshew, and how sad it was that her little great-granddaughter would probably grow up without any memory of her mother.
“And when Edward remarries, that’ll loosen the ties to the Min-shews even more,” she sighed.
I pricked up my ears. “You knew them? They weren’t getting along?”
“No, no. I just mean that he’s young and he’s got a baby girl that’s going to need a mother. Only natural if he took another wife after a while.”
“So why did you say ‘even more’?” I asked, as I passed a slow-moving pickup truck with three hounds in the back.
“Did I?” She thought about her words. “Maybe it’s because the Minshews are so nice and those Barefoots—”
Trust Aunt Zell to know them root and stock.
“They say Edward’s real steady and hard-working. Always putting in overtime at his office. Works nine or ten hours a day. But the rest of his family—” She hesitated, not wanting to speak badly of anybody. “I think his father spent some time in jail for beating up on his mother. Both of them were too drunk to come to the wedding, Retha says. And Retha says his two younger brothers are wild as turkeys, too. Anyhow, I get the impression the Minshews don’t do much visiting back and forth with the Barefoots.”
Angier is still a small town, but so many people had turned out for the wake that the line stretched across the porch, down the walk and out onto the sidewalk.
Fortunately, the lines usually move fast, and within a half-hour Aunt Zell and I were standing before the open casket. There was no sign that Chastity Minshew Barefoot had died violently. Her fair head lay lightly on the pink satin pillow, her face was smooth and unwrinkled and her pink lips hinted at secret amusement. Her small hands were clasped around a silver picture frame that held a color photograph of a suntanned little girl with curly blond hair.
A large bouquet of gardenias lay on the closed bottom half of the polished casket and the heavy sweet smell was almost overpowering.
Aunt Zell sighed, then turned to the tall gray-haired woman with red-rimmed eyes who stood next to the coffin. “Oh, Retha, honey, I’m just so sorry.”
They hugged each other. Aunt Zell introduced me to Chastity’s grandmother, who in turn introduced us to her son and daughter-in-law, both of whom seemed shellshocked by the murder of their daughter.
As did Edward Barefoot, who stood just beyond them. His eyes were glazed and feverish looking. Gone was the crisp young businessman of two days ago. Tonight his face was pinched, his skin was pasty, his hair disheveled. He looked five years older and if they hadn’t told me who he was, I wouldn’t have recognized him.
He gazed at me blankly as Aunt Zell and I paused to give our condolences. A lot of people don’t recognize me without the black robe.
“I’m Judge Knott,” I reminded him. “You were in my courtroom day before yesterday I’m really sorry about your wife.”
“Thank you, Judge.” His eyes focussed on my face and he gave me a firm handshake. “And I want to thank you again for going so easy on me.”