“Additional clues turned up in the lab. Tiny fragments of glass from the mess-hall floor were identified as the contact lenses Robert Osborne was wearing when he left the house. The torn sleeve contained particles of sandy alkaline soil with a high nitrogen content indicating recent use of a commercial fertilizer. Such soil is typical of the Valley area. Mixed with the sample taken from the sleeve was sebum, the secretion of human oil glands which flows more copiously in young people, and a number of straight black hairs belonging to someone from one of the dark but not Negroid races. Similar hairs and bits of human tissue were found in the dog’s mouth, as well as a shred of cloth, heavy-duty blue cotton twill of the kind used to make men’s work pants.
“From a police lab five hundred miles away, a picture began to emerge of the events which took place on the Osborne ranch that night and of the men who participated in them. There were three. The only one whose name we know was Robert Osborne. Let us refer to the other two, as we did previously, by their blood types. Type O was a dark-haired, dark-skinned young man, small in stature, probably Mexican, who worked on a ranch in the area. He wore a blue and green plaid cotton shirt of the kind sold by the thousands through Sears Roebuck. He was slightly wounded near the beginning of the fight and left early, catching his sleeve on a yucca spike as he ran out the door. Perhaps O was merely trying to escape further trouble, but it seems more likely that he went to get help for his friend, seeing that things were going badly. The friend, B, was also dark-skinned, dark-haired and probably Mexican. He wore Levis and carried a butterfly knife. Lum Wing referred to such a knife as ‘jewelry,’ but it was lethal jewelry. A butterfly knife in the right hands can be almost as quick and deadly as a switchblade. We know that B was bitten by the dog and also that he was fairly seriously injured in the fight.
“I will not attempt to reconstruct the crime itself, how and why it started, whether it was actually planned as a robbery or a murder, or whether it was a chance encounter that turned into a homicide. We simply don’t know. The lab that tells us a man’s age, race, stature, blood type, clothing can’t reveal what’s going on inside his head. Our only clue concerning events prior to the crime was provided by Lum Wing, the cook, whose quarters were in a partitioned-off area at one end of the mess hall. Mr. Wing testified that he dozed off on his cot after drinking some wine. He was awakened by the sound of loud angry voices talking in Spanish. He didn’t recognize the voices or understand what they were saying, since he doesn’t speak the language. Nor did he attempt to interfere in the argument. He made earplugs out of small pieces of paper, put them in his ears and went back to sleep.
“While the circumstances leading up to the crime itself are and will probably remain obscure, what happened afterward is somewhat clearer. First, there is the evidence of the blankets missing from the bunkhouse — a double flannelette sheet-type blanket and two brown wool army surplus — plus the fact that no bloodstains were found outside the mess hall. Mr. Valenzuela has testified that the body of a young man Robert Osborne’s size contains between six and a half and seven quarts of blood. It’s a reasonable assumption that the body was wrapped in the three blankets and carried out to the old red G.M. truck. Ten men had arrived in that truck. Eleven left in it.
“As the vehicle moved toward the main road three things occurred: the murder weapon was tossed out into the pumpkin field; the dog was struck and killed as it chased the truck in pursuit of its master; and some of the contents of Robert Osborne’s wallet, if not the wallet itself, were thrown into the riverbed. One item, a credit card, was subsequently found downstream in a pile of debris after the season’s first heavy rain. Unlike other cards Robert Osborne carried in his wallet, the credit card was made of a heavy plastic, indestructible in water. If the men had been ordinary robbers they’d probably have kept the card and tried to use it. But the chances are that the viseros didn’t even know what it was, let alone that it could be useful to them.
“In hearings like this one, as your Honor pointed out, an averment of diligent search should be included. The search was diligent, indeed. It began the night Robert Osborne disappeared and has continued until the present time, a period of one year and four days. It covered an area from Northern California to Eastern Texas, from Tijuana to Guadalajara. It included the posting, by the victim’s mother, of a ten-thousand-dollar reward, none of which was ever paid out because no legitimate claim was filed.
“When a man drops out of sight, leaving behind evidence of foul play but no body, questions inevitably arise in people’s minds. Was the disappearance voluntary and the evidence faked? Would a presumption of death benefit the man or his survivors? Was he in trouble with the law, with his family, his friends? Was he depressed? Ill? Broke? In the case of Robert Osborne such questions are easily answered. He was a young man with everything to live for. He had a loving wife, a devoted mother, a child on the way, a successful ranch, good health, good friends.
“I will let Devon Osborne’s own words conclude this summary. She said in her testimony this morning: ‘I was sure my husband was dead. I’d been sure for a long time. Nothing would keep Robert from getting in touch with me if he were alive!’”
Chapter Fourteen
On the way home Lum Wing, exhausted by his mental battles with the law and his unexpected victory, fell asleep in the back of the station wagon.
The day had had the opposite effect on Jaime. He felt excited and restless. Splashes of bright red crossed his face, disappeared and came back again like warning lights turning on and off. Around his family and friends he was used to playing it cool, limiting his reactions to blank stares, noncommittal shrugs or barely perceptible movements of the head. Now suddenly he wanted to talk, talk a great deal, to anyone. Only Dulzura was available, massive and quiet in the seat beside him. All the talking was being done in the front seat. It wasn’t loud, it didn’t sound like quarreling, and yet Jaime knew it was and listened to find out why.
“...Judge Gallagher, not Galloper.”
“Very well. Gallagher. How did he get to be a judge if he can’t make up his mind?”
“He can,” Estivar said. “He probably already has.”
“Then why didn’t he announce it?”
“That’s not the way it’s done. He’s supposed to go over all the testimony and study the reports from the police lab before he reaches a decision.”
When Ysobel was angry her speech became very precise. “It seems to me the lawyer was attempting to prove the viseros killed Mr. Osborne. Accusing men who are not present to defend themselves is not American justice.”
“They weren’t present because they couldn’t be found. If they’d been found they would have had a fair trial.”
“Men do not just disappear into the air like smoke.”
“Some do. Some did.”
“Still, it doesn’t seem rightful to read names out loud and in court the way they did. Supposing one of the names had been yours and you weren’t given a chance to say, ‘That’s me, Secundo Estivar, that’s my name, don’t you go accusing—’”
“The names read in court were not real, can’t you understand that?”
“Even so.”
“All right. If you don’t like the way Mr. Ford handled the case, call him up and tell him as soon as we get home. But don’t drag me in.”
“You are in,” Ysobel said. “You gave him the names.”
“I had to, I was ordered to.”
“Even so.”