“Of course he was,” interrupts Dr. Kramer. “But we mustn’t confuse the mystique with the man. There are other surgeons who are just as qualified, just as adept at the procedures. I don’t anticipate much will change in that regard.”
“Except the mix of patients and procedures,” says Claire. Dr. Kramer frowns.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
Dr. Kramer says, “I don’t think we need hold Dr. Fanning here any longer,” but I motion for him to let her speak.
“There was a growing consensus to throw the children under the bus,” she says. “So to speak.” I look for a hint of a smile, but there is none. Definitely no sense of humor. “Management meetings were becoming very contentious,” she adds.
Dr. Kramer picks up a pen on his desk and begins making little stabbing motions at a piece of paper.
“Why is that?” I ask her.
She significantly rubs her thumb against her index finger: the universal sign for money.
“John was facing a mutiny,” she says.
“That’s too strong a word,” objects Dr. Kramer. “The detective is going to get the wrong idea.”
“Maybe she should,” says Dr. Fanning.
“Or perhaps the right one,” I say at the same time. We glance at each other.
“What made the meetings . . . contentious?” I ask.
“Do the math,” she says. “The adult cosmetic patients are, for the most part, cash customers. No worries about insurance, Medicaid, waiving of fees, just a rich influx of cash. The children are a different matter altogether. Wrestling with insurance companies—even when they have insurance. Scrounging for donations. Trying to constantly find innovative ways to fund the pro bono cases John was committed to.”
“Exactly how much money was at stake?” I ask.
“Annually? Millions,” she says. “John wasn’t interested in expanding the cosmetic side of the business. And John had veto power. Something he’d held on to when drawing up the partnership agreements.”
I turn to Dr. Kramer. “Is this true?”
He shrugs, trying to appear casual, but there’s a tenseness to his shoulders that wasn’t there when we started. “Business partners often disagree,” he says. “It’s the nature of the relationship.” Then he pauses before continuing, “Hardly a motive for murder.”
I nod, but in a neutral way. “No one said it was.”
“It’s where the conversation was leading,” he says. “I thought I might as well name the elephant in the room.”
I decide to change the subject. “Curious question: Why don’t you have a sign out front? This place is almost impossible to find.”
Dr. Kramer looks relieved at the shift in direction. “Our clients prefer it that way,” he says. “It’s more discreet.”
“What he means,” says Dr. Fanning, “is that the cosmetic customers prefer it. Heaven forbid they’re seen going into a plastic surgeon’s office. Or seen leaving it. Did you see the rear exit? So our clients can make quick getaways.” She walks over to another door on the other side of the desk, and opens it. Through it I can see a dark hallway. “Every doctor’s office and recovery room in the clinic has a door like this,” she says. “It goes out a back way, through an alley that’s even more obscured than the front entrance. This way, our cash customers can escape unseen. Whether they’ve just had a consult or a procedure done, their identity is protected.”
Dr. Kramer stands up. “Dr. Fanning, I’m sure you have work to do. Don’t let us keep you.” He turns to me. “I understand you also want to speak with Dr. Epstein.”
“If possible,” I say. I already have much more information than I expected.
“Of course,” says Dr. Kramer. “Follow me.”
I hold out my hand to Dr. Fanning. “Thank you,” I say. “It’s been . . . illuminating.”
30
MJ
MY BROTHER IS DUE TO come by at ten this morning. Knowing Thomas, he’ll be half an hour to forty-five minutes late. He’ll also be hungry, in need of a shower and a change of clothes. Only two years younger than me, he’s never learned to take care of himself, instead choosing partners who take him on, though always for the short term. He is between lovers right now, so I expect to see a run-down specimen when he shows up. I asked him once, how do you always find these . . . not sugar daddies, because they’re not necessarily flush with money . . . but men with an excess of compassion, and a desire, no, really a neediness, to tend to others, to serve them. To serve him, Thomas.