The Thousand - Kevin Guilfoile [67]
Kloska shook his head, but not in a way that necessarily meant no. “I think her murder might be related to Solomon Gold.” Russo didn’t reply. “Did Dr. Falcone ever mention him? Or his daughter?”
“Have you asked the Gold family to waive confidentiality?”
Yeah, right. Jesus. Kloska said, “I’m not after any secrets,” which wasn’t true.
“I’m sorry. I’m assuming since you didn’t bring a warrant that the state’s attorney has explained our position. I’m happy to cooperate any way I can, within ethical limits. To be honest, I thought you had come here to discuss the threats Marlena had been receiving.”
“Threats?”
“Dozens of them.” Russo spun his chair and plucked a thick folder from a credenza behind him. “Marlena had been keeping a file. She told us that if anything ever happened to her, we should turn these over to the police.”
“Why didn’t you call us?”
Russo looked surprised. “I did. The 311 nonemergency number. The day she was killed.”
Kloska would check on that. He grabbed the folder with two hands.
“All anonymous of course. Most in e-mails. But Marlena had spent a lot of time and effort and money trying to track the bastards down. She figured out that seven of them originated in the offices of two large pharmaceutical companies.”
“Why drug companies?”
Russo snickered the way Kloska used to when one of his kids asked why water is wet. “Marlena’s passion for brain stimulation came from her belief that the medical establishment, at the urging of the pharmaceutical industry, overprescribes powerful medicines for its patients. That these chemicals running through our bodies in different combinations do more long-term harm than good. She was outspoken on the subject and, with the success of neurostimulators, certain drug companies have taken a hit.”
Kloska slid into a skeptical slouch. “But why would they kill her? That horse’s already left the barn, hasn’t it? You see commercials for nerve stimulation on TV every night. My ex-brother-in-law got one to quit smoking.”
“Do you own any pharmaceutical stock?”
“My money’s all tied up in alimony.”
“There are a lot of angry shareholders out there. Hundreds of physicians perform this procedure, but Marlena was unquestionably the public face of it. She was a cheerleader and an inventor. She wrote extensively on the subject. Her overenthusiasm, of course, is what lost Marlena her practice.”
“Do you think a drug company killed her?”
Russo put his hands behind his head. “I’m not a detective, Detective. I’m just handing over the file.”
“But only this file.”
Russo snorted once.
“All right,” Kloska said. “What can you tell me about this place?”
Dennis Russo was probably better-looking at fifty than he had been at thirty. His face wasn’t classically handsome, but he was fit and his hair was largely intact and he wore an expensive suit well. It was more like he had outlasted his once more attractive contemporaries and he knew it. “We provide concierge medical services. Our patients pay an annual retainer and we provide them with twenty-four-hour care, three hundred and sixty-five days a year. If you’re feeling sick, we see you today. If you’re away from home, we will tend to your needs long-distance. Last week one of our clients broke his arm rock climbing in Guangxi Province. I found the best doctor in Guilin. I arranged transportation, as well as a translator who met my client at the hospital. I e-mailed his medical records and consulted with the physicians by phone. Our client list is short, so we can provide the most attentive care possible.”
“What does all this attention cost?”
“Our services begin at twenty thousand dollars a year and go on up from there.”
Kloska looked at Traden, for whom twenty grand was about one-half his take-home pay. “That’s just the retainer, yeah? That doesn’t include