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starting to speak while still in the middle of the street. Sarah and Winnie had come to a stop.
"And when they shall say unto you, Seek unto them that have familiar spirits, and unto wizards that peep,
and that mutter: should not a people seek unto their God? for the living to the dead?"
"Mrs. Betancort, I don't understand what you are trying to tell me," Sarah said.
"Hah! She speaks, the wicked Jezebel speaks. I saw three unclean spirits like frogs come out of the
mouth of the dragon, and out of the mouth of the beast, and out of the mouth of the false prophet."
Sarah took Winnie by the hand. "Let's go," she said angrily.
"Go! Go! 0 daughter of Babylon, who art to be destroyed."
Sarah and Winnie were nearly running, leaving her on the sidewalk talking to them, her words answered
with loud laughter now.
"Flee, flee! Steal no more, o backsliding daughter.
Leave me in peace, and my bed, and my chairs, and my water. Bring your pails to my well no more!"
"Why does she hate us so much?" Winnie whispered when they were halfway down the block.
"I believe she thinks my parents stole the water from Ghost Lake," Sarah said in a low voice.
"You're kidding."
"I wish."
"But Grandpa didn't even start the gardens until years after her stupid commune failed." "I know. Rosa
said she's lost in time, it's all now for her, no before and after. She just knows what she knows.
She's pathetic."
"Yeah, like a witch is pathetic." She made a rude grunting sound.
"If she offers you an apple, run."
There would be nothing for Fernandez to report today, Sarah told herself that afternoon. And probably
nothing over the weekend, although that was less certain. She suspected that if Fernandez ordered the
autopsy pronto, it would be done pronto; she suspected that he got his way more often than not. And
that took them to Monday or Tuesday, she continued, leaving it open if anything would be done over the
weekend. Even if it were. she probably wouldn't be told until next week. And Dirk Walters was due to
call back on Monday or Tuesday.
"It's just too god damned much," she muttered under her breath. She couldn't rid her mind of the image
of her father standing at the edge of the pool, talking quietly to the fish he loved, and then the blow to the
back of his head, the fall forward... She sat on the veranda brooding over it, seeing it play through again
and again until she was forced to her feet, to pace again, although she was exhausted from so much
aimless walking.
She would tell Dirk no. If Virgil was arrested, charged with murder, she would have to be on his defense
team; she did not trust anyone else to win his case, although she was uncertain that she had any chance
of winning either. She was not at all certain there was an attorney in the country who could be any more
sure than she was of winning: if they charged him with murder, they would convict him of smuggling both
people and drugs. And the murderer would still be at large. Her nails dug into her palms and she forced
her hands to open, to relax.
So, she went back to her practice conversation with Dirk, she would tell him no, no reason, of course,
and then wait and see. How long?
Until they charged Virgil or found the killer, she answered. Who could say how long either one would
take?
What made it harder to bear was the fact that Virgil did not know the danger he was in. He was working
long hours, doing his work, Maria's work; no doubt some of her father's work had landed on his
shoulders also. He was tired every night, up early every morning, withdrawn and silent, preoccupied with
worry about Maria, and oblivious to his own predicament. No more fun and games for him these days,
no more monkeying around with skates, teasing his sister. It was as if her son, who had been a child only
two weeks ago, was her adult son now with no transition period. One day, child, next day, mature adult.
Fernandez had not told her in so many words to keep his confidences quiet, but it was there by
implication, and even if not, she would have kept quiet at this time simply because there was no reason
to frighten Virgil until it was necessary. She was glad he did not see the danger yet. At least, he was
sleeping well; she knew Winnie was not, and neither was she.
She sat and gazed at the ponds, and she thought, all her life she had been so used to her father's
decisions to do this, to do that, go here, go there; she never had questioned any of them, any more than
her mother had questioned. And how oblivious he had been; he had assumed that because he hated
being stationed in Portland, his wife also had hated it, when actually she had rejoiced at a real house, a
real roof, a real bathroom, all the things other women never had to think about.
Sarah thought about his ignorance of what it was that her mother had wanted to do and never attempted.
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