Leonora's expression softened. "You do have a job to do, don't you? What would you like to know?"
"Tell me about Danny."
"Danny couldn't kill Vernon. Vernon meant everything to him. Vernon's father gave Danny's father a job-the best job he ever had-and paid Danny's way through college. He was Vernon's room mate. He's had a contract with Vernon's company ever since he became a registered geologist. Without the support he got from Vernon and his father starting out, Danny would have probably been a roughneck oil worker, living in a trailer park, drawing unemployment six months out of the year."
"Did Vernon's father help any of Danny's other friends with their schooling?"
"Not that I know of. It was a special situation. Danny and Vernon were inseparable-almost like brothers. Vernon told his dad that he wouldn't go to college unless Danny went with him. And when Vernon took over the companies, he made sure that Danny had a chance to build his reputation as a petroleum geologist. He's considered one of the best in the Southwest."
"That makes a lot of things clearer. Did you know he took Margie with him to Albuquerque?"
Leonora's eyes widened. "That's amazing. I've never known Margie to budge from her house for anything other than work and necessary errands. Good for her. It's about time Margie did some thing besides stay at home."
"She doesn't speak highly of Vernon."
"She never got over feeling that Vernon stole her brother away from her. She used to adore Danny; followed him everywhere until Vernon took over Danny's life."
"Took over, how?"
Leonora shrugged a shoulder. It made her thick upper arm jiggle. "You know how boys are, one always has to be the leader. Vernon led and Danny followed."
On his way back to town, Kerney called Lee Sedillo and asked if any correspondence from Danny Hobeck had been found during the search of Judge Langsford's house.
"Nothing, Chief," Lee said, after checking the inventory of reviewed documents. "And no long-distance telephone calls, either."
From the parking lot of a family-owned grocery store near his motel, he called Penelope Gibben.
"Does Ranchers' have a current consulting contract with Danny Hobeck?" he asked.
"Yes."
"How much do you pay him?"
"It's in the hundred-thousand range."
"Annually?"
"Yes."
"How long has he been under contract?"
"For many years."
"What does he do to earn the money?" Kerney asked.
"I'd have to pull the contract for the specifics."
"I'd like a copy of every contract."
"I can't do that without our lawyer's permission."
"I'll have an officer at your house within an hour with a court order," Kerney said. He disconnected and dialed up the district office.
In the grocery store Kerney picked through the fresh produce section and got what he needed to make a good salad.
His motel, close to the New Mexico Military Institute, was an improvement over his room in Alamogordo. He had a suite that came with a kitchenette, a sitting room, and a separate sleeping area.
At the checkout counter he stood behind a woman who had also shopped for an evening meal. Only she would be cooking for two and serving a nice bottle of red wine with dinner. Kerney looked down at the few items in his hands and started missing Sara. He watched the woman swing her way out the automatic doors and bit back on the feeling of loneliness that nipped at him.
He walked into the motel lobby carrying his groceries and saw Clayton sitting at a couch with a woman and two small children. They stood in unison when Kerney approached.
"You wanted to meet my family," Clayton said, rubbing the head of the little boy at his side. "This is Wendell." He pointed to the child in the woman's arms. "That's Hannah. And this is my wife, Grace."
Wendell stepped forward and with a serious look extended his hand.
Kerney bent down and shook it. "Hello, Grandfather," Wendell said.
"Hello, Wendell. It's nice to meet you."
Wendell nodded and, well coached for the occasion, stepped back to his father's side.
"Mrs. Istee," Kerney said, as he stood upright. She was a small-boned pretty woman with an arrow face and even features that gave her a classy look.
"Chief Kerney," Grace replied, nodding her head as she scooped up Hannah, who had started to toddle away.
Kerney looked from face to face. Clayton and his family had dressed for the occasion: father and son wore pressed jeans and fresh shirts, and mother and daughter each wore white blouses and dark skirts.
His eyes settled on Clayton. "Please be my guests for dinner," he said.
Clayton shook his head. "We can't, but thank you anyway. We just stopped by a few minutes ago so you could meet my family. We have a lot of errands to run before we go home."
"Some other time then," Kerney said, smiling at Grace.
"I'd like that," Grace said, giving Kerney a small smile in return.
"So would I," Kerney replied, switching his gaze back to Clayton.
"Thank you for doing this."
"My mother kept your letters," Clayton said. "But she wouldn't let me read them."
"Thank her for saving me from the embarrassment," Kerney said.
"Were they that mushy?"
"Yeah, I guess they were."
Clayton nodded a good-bye and led his family through the lobby doors. Looking at Kerney over her mother's shoulder, Hannah waved.
Kerney waited a beat until they were out of sight, then approached the registration clerk and asked how long Clayton and his family had been waiting.
"Way over an hour," the woman said, glancing at the wall clock.
In the morning, Kerney lathered his face in the bathroom mirror at the motel and forced himself to stop grinning. But the image of Penelope Gibben stalking into the corporate offices late yesterday afternoon, forced by a court order to release the Hobeck contracts, brought the smile back. She'd said nothing during the time it took to find the records and left giving Kerney a spiteful look. Making Penelope Gibben angry and uncomfortable served no purpose, but it felt good nonetheless.
The Hobeck contracts spanned a period of almost fifty years, and the money Danny had received in total exceeded four million dollars. On an annualized basis it was a healthy chunk of cash.
After reading through the contracts last night, Kerney had called a local petroleum geologist to get a reading on the compensation Hobeck had received for services rendered. According to the geologist, Hobeck had been more than fairly reimbursed for the scope of his work.
He toweled off the remaining lather and at the small writing desk wrote out some questions before dialing up Hobeck's company in Albuquerque. When a woman answered, Kerney gave her a fictitious name, sounding as officious as possible.
"I'm with Rubin and Thayer," he continued. "We're conducting the annual corporate audit for Ranchers' Exploration and Development.
"How can I help you?" the woman said.
"I need to speak with your chief finance officer."
"That would be me, I suppose," the woman said with a laugh. "I handle all of Mr. Hobeck's office work. Now that he's semiretired, there's just the two of us, and he's out of town."
"I see," Kerney said. "Part of our audit process includes reviewing a sampling of the consultant contracts issued by Ranchers'. We show that Mr. Hobeck is contracted to provide professional services, and that year-to-date payments in the amount of ninety thousand dollars have been made to him through the month of September. Is that correct?"
"Yes, it is. I make the deposits. The checks come after the first of each month."