“I’m sure they might be upset, very upset,” he says. “But to harm him? That seems extreme.”
Dr. Kramer gazes at me now and smiles. I could hit him for that, and for what I know he is going to say next. Sure enough, out it comes. “Samantha,” he says. “How old are you?”
“It’s detective,” I say. “Edward, how old are you?” To his credit, he seems embarrassed.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “But you look like one of my daughters. Playing cops and robbers.”
“This isn’t a game.”
“I apologize.”
I decide to pretend our last exchange hasn’t happened, and plunge back in.
“What I don’t understand is how Dr. Taylor was able to live openly with his Los Gatos wife when his real one was so close by,” I say. “How could someone not have spotted them together—at the movies or the mall? What about work functions?”
Dr. Kramer nods. He’s more eager to help now after offending me. “It’s possible because John kept his personal life under wraps. None of us had even met Deborah. If we’d seen John with a woman, we would have naturally assumed it was her.”
“Never met your partner’s wife?” I ask. “That seems odd.”
“He told us she didn’t care to socialize,” Dr. Kramer says. “We had no reason to disbelieve him.” He hesitates a moment. “It’s not like we were friends in any meaningful way. We were business partners, and colleagues. Dr. Epstein and I see each other socially, but John made it absolutely clear he wasn’t interested—he wanted to keep his personal life separate from work.”
Just then, a soft knock on the door, and in walks a truly spectacular young woman. She stands out even among the other beauties here—both men and women. What a surreal place. She might be my age, or a year or two younger. It’s hard to tell because of the extraordinary whiteness of her skin, especially when contrasted to the black of her hair. These days of course we know to keep our babies covered up with hats and long sleeves, and to apply and reapply sunblock. But who would have been so obsessive about it twenty-five years ago? This woman’s parents—or whoever raised her—sure were. With her white skin and black hair she looks like a modern-day Snow White.
And it’s not just her looks, but her bearing that makes her stand out. For someone so young she is extraordinarily assured. She nods to me, but walks straight to Dr. Kramer and hands him a folder. “The photographs you wanted,” she says. Her voice is deeper than I expect, and raspy, almost a smoker’s voice, although I doubt she would deign to pollute her perfect body, her perfect skin, by inhaling such poison.
This woman’s black hair is cut straight across her jawline, and swings in one motion as she turns to leave the room. She is wearing a white lab coat over plain black trousers and white blouse, and some very kick-ass spectacles.
“This is Dr. Fanning, Dr. Claire Fanning, our newest resident,” says Dr. Kramer. “She’s been with us four months while completing a fellowship at Stanford. Claire, this is Detective Adams, who is following up on John’s tragic death.”
Claire flashes her black eyes at me. “What is there to follow up on?” she asks. “My understanding is that his death was due to cardiac arrest.”
“Myocardial infarction,” I correct her, and smile. She doesn’t smile back. My guess is that although she ranks a ten in beauty, her sense of humor is sadly underdeveloped.
“Detective Adams isn’t satisfied,” says Dr. Kramer.
Claire’s eyes behind the spectacles widen. The result is comically theatrical. “No?” she asks.
“No,” I say. “It’s been all over the news. The coroner’s verdict was murder by person or persons unknown. Too many unexplained factors for us to let it go.”
There’s a moment of silence. I turn back to Dr. Kramer. “Speaking of publicity,” I say, “How’s business here at the clinic? Has it been impacted by the media circus?”
“Not at all. Business couldn’t be better,” he says. He speaks louder than before, almost boisterously. “We have a waiting list for procedures that goes for months.” I notice Dr. Fanning looking at him steadily, but he seems to be avoiding her gaze.
“Who will take over the children’s cases now that Dr. Taylor is gone?” I ask.
“We haven’t yet decided. It’s obviously a big part of our brand here at the Taylor Institute. We can’t let that goodwill lapse,” Dr. Kramer says. There is no mistaking it now: Dr. Fanning is sending a message with her steady stare.
“What do you think?” I ask her.
She startles at my question, but answers quickly and decidedly. “Although the money is in the adult cosmetic procedures, we owe it to John to keep our pediatric practice going.”
“But is anyone qualified? I understand that he was uniquely talented at his work.”