“She died.”
“Everyone’s dying. Oh God, I can’t stand it. Everyone’s dying...”
Ford got up, walked slowly around the end of the counsels’ table and stood leaning against the railing of the empty jury box. The move was deliberate, to give Devon a chance to compose herself.
“Mrs. Osborne, you stated previously that before your husband left the house on the morning of October thirteen he told you he’d be back for dinner at seven-thirty. Did he come back by seven-thirty?”
“Yes.”
“And you had dinner together.”
“Yes.”
“Was it a pleasant meal?”
“Yes.”
“And when it was over, Mr. Osborne went outside to try and find the dog, Maxie.”
“Yes.”
“What time was that?”
“Eight-thirty, approximately.”
“After he left the house, what did you do?”
“A new record album had arrived in the mail that day and I played it.”
“How big an album?”
“Three records, six sides.”
“What kind of music was it?”
“Symphonic.”
“In most symphonies there are soft passages which require the volume to be turned up quite high if they are to be heard properly. Was the volume turned up high, Mrs. Osborne?”
“Yes.”
“This would make the louder passages very loud, would it not?”
“Yes.”
“Where in the ranch house was the stereo equipment installed?”
“The main living room.”
“And that’s where you sat and listened to the album?”
“Yes, but I didn’t just sit. I walked around, did some dusting and straightening up, glanced at the evening paper.”
“Were the windows closed or open?”
“Closed. It was a hot night and the house stayed cooler when it was shut up.”
“What about the drapes?”
“I opened them after the sun went down.”
“What direction do the windows in the living room face?”
“East and south.”
“What do you see from the windows facing east?”
“In the daytime I can see the riverbed and, on the other side of it, the ranch belonging to Leo Bishop.”
“And at night?”
“Nothing.”
“Is there a view from the windows facing south?”
“You can see Tijuana in the distance both night and day.”
“What about the blacktop road leading into the ranch, is this visible from the main living room?”
“No. It’s west of the ranch house. You can see it from the study and the kitchen and a couple of the bedrooms upstairs.”
“But not from the living room where you were sitting listening to music.”
“Not from there, no.”
Ford went back to the counsels’ table and sat down. “As time passed and your husband remained absent, did you begin to worry, Mrs. Osborne?”
“I tried to tell myself there was nothing to worry about, that Robert had been born on the ranch and knew every inch of it. But around nine forty-five I decided to check the garage to see if maybe Robert had taken the car to search for Maxie instead of going on foot as he usually did. I turned on the outside floodlights from the kitchen. Dulzura was in her room adjoining the kitchen, I could hear the radio playing.”
“Did you find the garage door unlocked?”
“Yes.”
“Was Mr. Osborne’s car in the garage?”
“Yes.”
“What did you do then, Mrs. Osborne?”
“I went back in the house and telephoned Mr. Estivar.”
“The foreman?”
“Yes. His cottage is on the other side of the reservoir.”
“Did he answer immediately?”
“No. He goes to bed around nine and it was almost ten by this time. But I let the phone keep ringing until he woke up and answered. I told him Robert was missing, and he said I was to stay in the house with all the doors and windows locked while he and Cruz made a search with the jeep.”
“Cruz?”
“Estivar’s oldest son. He had a jeep with a searchlight on it.”
“Did you do as Mr. Estivar suggested?”
“Yes. I waited in the kitchen by the window. I could see the lights of the jeep as it went up and down the little dirt roads that crisscross the ranch.”
“Did you notice any other signs of activity, any vehicles in motion, any people, any lights?”
“No.”
“Is it possible to see the mess hall and the bunkhouse from any of the windows of the ranch house?”
“No. A row of tamarisk trees shields the main house from the men’s quarters.”
“How long did you wait in the kitchen, Mrs. Osborne?”
“Until a quarter to eleven, about forty-five minutes.”
“Then what happened?”
“Mr. Estivar came to the door.”
“Was he alone?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say to you?”
“He said we’d better notify the police.”
“And did you?”
“Mr. Estivar called the sheriff’s office in Boca de Rio.”
“The sheriff’s men arrived when, Mrs. Osborne?”
“Shortly after eleven o’clock. The man in charge was Mr. Valenzuela. The other man was younger, I don’t recall his name, but he was the one who found all the — the blood in the mess hall.”
“Were you informed of his discovery?”
“Not directly. Mr. Valenzuela came back to the ranch house about eleven-thirty and asked if he could use the phone to call the sheriff’s office in San Diego. I overheard him say that a great deal of blood had been found and it looked like the result of a homicide.”
“What did you do then, Mrs. Osborne?”
“Dulzura was up by that time. She made a pot of coffee and I think I drank some. Pretty soon I heard a siren. I’d never heard a siren on the ranch before, it’s always so quiet late at night. I looked out the kitchen window and saw several cars moving along the road and red lights flashing.”
In addition to the siren there was the sound of Dulzura praying in Spanish, very loudly, as though she had a bad connection. Then suddenly the cuckoo clock above the stove began striking midnight, a mocking reminder that Robert had been gone for three and a half hours and it might be too late for prayers or policemen.
Devon went into the study, closing the door behind her to shut out some of the noise. For the first time she became physically aware of the child in her womb. It felt heavy and inert as a marble cherub.
She dialed the number of Agnes Osborne’s house in San Diego. Mrs. Osborne answered on the third ring, sounding a little annoyed, as though she’d been watching a late show on TV and didn’t like being interrupted by a wrong number.
“Mother?”
“Is that you, Devon? Why aren’t you in bed at this hour? The doctor told you—”
“I think something’s happened to Robert.”
“—get plenty of sleep. What did you say?”
“The police are here now searching for him. He went out to look for Maxie and he hasn’t come back and there’s blood in the mess hall, a lot of blood.”
There was a long silence, then Mrs. Osborne’s voice again, stubbornly cheerful. “It’s not the first time blood’s been found in the mess hall. Why, I can remember a dozen brawls in there, three or four of them quite serious. The men frequently quarrel among themselves, and of course they all carry knives. Are you listening to me, Devon?”
“Yes.”
“What probably happened is this: while Robert was out looking for the dog he heard a fight going on in the mess hall and went in to investigate. Perhaps one of the men was badly injured and Robert had to drive him into Boca de Rio to a doctor.”