Courting Death - Carol Stephenson [51]
I spread my hands palms up. “It’s my understanding he was the one who recommended you to Brian. I’m trying to understand the relationship among the three of you…in the event the prosecutor asks.” Always blame it all on the prosecutor.
He chuckled. “Strictly professional. There may be an occasional referral, but you’ll find that to be true for all doctors. If someone has a mental or physical problem beyond our specialty, we’ll refer the patient out, often to someone we know.”
I made a movement to rise and then paused. “You mentioned your relationship to hospitals, Dr. Chang. Do you serve on any other boards?”
“Several charities. Here.” He picked up a thick folder in front of him. “I have one of my presentation folders to give you. It contains my resume, a list of cases for which I’ve served as an expert, and copies of articles I’ve written. I’m sure you’ll find the answer to all your many questions.”
I took the hint, stood and grabbed the folder from him. “Thank you, Doctor. I’ve taken enough of your valuable time. I’ll be in touch.”
He rose as well and escorted me to the door. “The pleasure’s all mine. I look forward to helping Brian and Claire.”
I managed a normal pace as I walked through the reception area, positive the doctor remained in the door watching me. The moment the heavy wood door closed behind me, I let out a sigh of relief and hurried to the bank of elevators.
Wasn’t it interesting that whenever he referred to the Whitmans his tone had assumed an air of familiarity?
The ride down was swift. As I exited the elevator, I spotted the large glass case by the entrance to the outdoor common area. Curious, I crossed the green marble floor and found it contained not only a diagram of all the buildings but also a directory. Loads of medical offices with an occasional attorney, most on the civil side of practice. I shuddered to think what the rent must be as I looked through the floor-to-ceiling bank of windows at the meticulous landscaping and massive fountain sparkling in the center of the industrial park. Too expensive for our firm and besides, I liked the character of our 1920s building.
As I scanned the surroundings, the name on a sleek one-story building directly caught my eye: OraGen. I pushed open the door and walked around the square. On closer inspection the building had no glass front and the door was metal with a sign stating Visitors By Appointment Only. Another sign indicated delivery access was at the rear of the building.
I didn’t catch the cameras hidden under the overhang until I was at the entrance. I kept strolling and ducked my head to look at my portfolio. Hopefully, I looked like someone who was lost.
Out of the corner of my eye I noticed what few windows the building had were blackout tinted. While whoever was working inside could see out, no one could see in. When I reached the next office building, I cut around to the backside and found a parking lot bordered by a utility road that circled the complex.
At OraGen only a few cars occupied the lot. Either it maintained only a small staff or it had killer work hours. I completed the circuit of the commons and hurried to my rental. Instead of turning toward the main entrance, I drove the utility road, slowing slightly as I passed my target. Two doors, one atop a delivery ramp, stood closed. A truck with a familiar overnight delivery service logo sped by me and pulled into the lot of the medical research building. I kept going.
I headed back toward the city. From the size of the grant OraGen had given to Oceanview Medical Center, one would have expected a much larger operation. I tapped my fingers on the folder Dr. Chang had given me. Although I didn’t possess a photographic memory, I was certain OraGen wasn’t on his disclosure list of corporate involvements.
However, I knew who had been connected to the company. Time to check out a file at the courthouse. Nothing more interesting than a divorce case for illuminating reading.
Although it was