'I've done nothing wrong,' Hobeck caught his blunder and tried to adjust. 'Of course I want the killer caught.'
Kerney pressed the issue. 'But you have done something wrong, Mr. Hobeck. Failing to reveal the whereabouts of a material witness constitutes obstruction.'
'Margie had nothing to do with Vernon's murder.'
'That's not my point. Talk to your lawyer.'
'Have you been watching my house?' Hobeck asked.
'I'll wait here while you speak to him,' Kerney said.
Hobeck closed the door. When it opened again, a middle-aged portly man in an expensive suit greeted Kerney with a quick, hard look.
'May I see some credentials?' the man asked. Kerney held up his badge case. 'Who are you?'
'Ronald Pomeroy. Hobeck's attorney.'
'Is your client willing to cooperate with me?'
'We'll see,' Pomeroy said, swinging the door open so Kerney could enter.
He led the way into the living room, where a wall of glass mirrored the front entrance to the house, providing a view of a flagstone patio and a bubbling stone fountain.
Hobeck paced nervously in front of a tan leather couch positioned in front of a built-in bookcase that held a treasure-trove of antique African folk art, mostly of male and female fertility symbols with enlarged sex organs.
'How is Margie Hobeck a material witness in your case?' Pomeroy asked.
'Do you represent Margie?' Kerney replied.
'At her brother's request, I represent her best interests.'
'In what way?'
'Margie isn't well. She has emotional problems. Mr. Hobeck doesn't think now is a good time for you to bother her.'
'You're playing word games, counselor,' Kerney said. 'Does your client have any legal authority over his sister's affairs?'
'Margie is in a very fragile state, and Mr. Hobeck wishes to protect her from any additional trauma.'
'Are you planning to file for guardianship?'
'Mr. Hobeck's reasons for meeting with me are privileged.'
'Of course,' Kerney said. 'But whatever civil action you may take doesn't shield Margie as a material witness in a criminal investigation.
Let me ask you again: Do you represent Margie Hobeck?'
'I do not.'
Kerney looked at Hobeck. 'Where's Margie?'
Hobeck glanced from Kerney to Pomeroy. 'Do I have to answer?' Kerney held up a hand. 'Before you respond, counselor, let me make it clear that Mr. Hobeck acted intentionally when he took his sister out of town to avoid any further contact with the police. He lied to his employee and to Margie's neighbor about what he was doing and where he was going.'
'Is that true?' Pomeroy asked.
Hobeck hung his head. 'Can't you do anything?' he pleaded to Pomeroy.
'After I arrest you for obstruction of justice, he can,' Kerney said, turning back to Pomeroy. 'What will it be?'
Pomeroy nodded curtly. 'I suggest you tell Chief Kerney where Margie is, Daniel.'
With haunted eyes, Hobeck gave Kerney the name of a chemical dependency treatment program outside of Tucson. 'She's addicted to tranquilizers,' he added. 'Has been for most of her life. You can't count on her to tell the truth.'
'Perhaps you'd like that to be so,' Kerney countered. 'What does Margie know about Vernon Langsford?'
'I can't talk about that.'
'Nor do you have to at this point,' Pomeroy advised.
'Don't let your client contact Margie until after I speak with her,' Kerney said.
Hobeck switched his gaze to Kerney. 'You can't keep me from doing that. This is America, not some dictatorship, for chrissake.'
'I suggest we follow Chief Kerney's advice,' Pomeroy replied.
Defeated, Hobeck dropped heavily to the couch as though his legs had been knocked out from under him.
Kerney handed Pomeroy his business card. 'You may want to hold off on any court petition until after my visit.'
'I'm way ahead of you on that one,' Pomeroy replied, giving Hobeck an inquisitive look.
The cramped seat on the plane ride to Tucson made Kerney's bum knee lock up. He hobbled through the terminal like an old man, signed for his rental car, and, using the map supplied with the keys to the vehicle, found his way to the treatment center where Hobeck had stashed his sister.
A drying-out resort and spa for affluent addicts and drunks, the center had once been a dude ranch, and the Western theme was continued in newly built clusters of rustic-looking private guest cottages and low-slung buildings with wide verandas, where a range of treatment options, from aroma and massage therapy to group and individual counseling, was available to speed the recovery process.
If the patrons didn't leave cured of their addictions, they would at least check out feeling pampered.
On the green in front of the administration building, a group of matrons in mix-and-match sizes were exercising under the guidance of a tanned, fit-looking young man who wore a body-hugging tee shirt that accentuated his toned upper torso. The young woman in side at a reception desk was equally toned, tanned, and dressed in a tee shirt of her own that emphasized a pair of remarkably different features from those of her male counterpart on the lawn.
The receptionist was busy on the telephone, so Kerney stood in front of the desk and fanned through an advertising brochure for the center that listed the levels of services available, optional packages, and the weekly rates. Even if Hobeck had selected the least expensive course of treatment for his sister, the cost was exorbitant.
'May I help you?' the woman asked, as she hung up the phone and gave Kerney a well-practiced welcoming smile.
'Margie Hobeck, please,' Kerney replied, showing his shield. The smile vanished and Kerney got directions to the Paloverde Cottages, which, according to the brochure, were the low-end accommodations. Before he left, he verified that Margie had voluntarily signed herself in for treatment.
She answered his knock at her cabin door immediately. Agitation showed on her face; perhaps withdrawal symptoms, Kerney speculated.
Hobeck had paid for a makeover; Margie's hair had been tinted and set, her nails were perfectly done, and her eyebrows and lashes had been dyed.
'I remember you,' Margie said. 'You're that policeman. Why did you ask my brother all those questions about me?' The question came out as a whine.
'I'm sorry if it caused you trouble.'
'He took me away from my home and brought me here. I don't like it here. I need to be home with my cats.'
'Would you like me to take you home?'
'Danny wouldn't like that. He wants me to stay. He said if I talked to you, he would sell my house. He said a judge would give him control of my affairs because I'm not responsible.'
'I won't let that happen,' Kerney said.
'You can stop him?'
'Yes, if you help me.'
A hopeful look broke through Margie's uneasiness. 'My cats liked you. They don't usually like men.'
