Faye Kellerman - Prayers for the Dead

“Did he give all his colleagues bonuses?” Oliver asked.

“Yes, I believe he did.”

“Generous guy.”

“He certainly had enough to play with.”

The room was quiet.

“I took my job very seriously,” Berger said. “Worked very hard with Fisher/Tyne, smoothing out the areas that needed improvement.”

“Such as?” Oliver asked.

“Primarily improving the efficacy of the drug and the honing down of the unwarranted side effects. As I worked through these problems, studying the interactions at a cellular level, specifically Curedon’s propensity for human cyclophillin binding and its corrolate of immunosuppression, I discovered something very interesting. I proposed the following theory. That if one modified the drug’s butenyl ring structure, you could further increase the affinity for cyclophillin binding to a fourfold level. On a theoretical basis only, of course.”

“Of course,” Oliver said.

Dorman said, “Doctor, I think you’re going to have to simplify the technical aspects of your research.”

Berger was peeved. “On a strictly theoretical basis, I thought I discovered a better drug than Curedon.”

“Ah.” Oliver held up his finger. “That I understand.”

“Mind you, I had nothing tangible. Just an idea. And a very abstract one at that. But I was pleased with myself. Nevertheless, I didn’t think about pursuing it. I didn’t have the time or the resources. In passing, I happened to mention my idea to someone at Fisher/Tyne. He got very excited.”

“Shockley,” Oliver said.

“No, his boss, Joseph Grammer. Dr. Grammer was intrigued. We met a couple of times. Talked a bit about my idea. Developing any drug is a very expensive proposition. And like they say, a bird in the hand…”

No one spoke.

“Grammer took the matter up with Fisher/Tyne’s executive board. He came back and told me the bad news: I had almost been granted funding. But then the moment of truth. The board didn’t have enough funds to support my research, and support Curedon at the same time. Since Fisher/Tyne had already spent an enormous sum for Curedon, and since it was almost ready for human trials, the board wasn’t keen on going back to square one with my analog. The board voted to continue Curedon research. And I was left in the cold.”

“Made you bitter?” Oliver asked.

“No,” Berger insisted. “I was not bitter. Disappointed, yes. But not bitter. I continued on with Curedon, figuring the matter to be dropped.”

The room was quiet.

“Oh my,” Berger said. “Oh my, oh my.”

“Deal’s been cut, sir,” Saugust said. “Why don’t you just get it off your chest.”

“About a week later…” Berger sighed. “A week later, after my defeat, Gordon Shockley came to me with a proposition. How would I like to see my theoretical drug turned into a practical moneymaking venture? I asked him what he had in mind.”

Berger’s hands turned into white-knuckled fists.

“He started naming numbers-”

“Who named numbers?”

“Shockley. Shockley informed me about the enormous sums of money that Fisher/Tyne was planning to spend on Curedon’s R and D. He said if we could develop something even equally as good as Curedon and cut our fees by half…we could undersell Curedon and still make out like bandits.”

“Undersell to whom?”

“To Fisher/Tyne. It’s happened before. A company will abandon a project if they have something better lined up. In truth, we would have sold to any drug company willing to put up cash.”

“And you agreed to work with Shockley,” Oliver said.

“We live in a country that prides itself on free-market enterprise. As long as patents laws weren’t violated, I did nothing illegal in agreeing to develop a new drug.”

“Maybe not illegal, but unethical,” Oliver said.

“Was it any more unethical than Azor taking all the credit for work I did?”

Oliver looked at his notes, then at Berger. He sat back in his chair. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but Dr. Fulton-that’s Elizabeth Fulton for the records-she told us that any scientific discoveries that came from Sparks’s lab were his to publish. That’s just how it is in the academic world.”

Berger was miffed. “Do you want to hear my story or not?”

“Besides,” Oliver went on, “Sparks wasn’t screwing you up by monkeying with the computers-”

“I’m getting to that,” Berger responded fiercely.

“Rather slowly,” Saugust whispered under his breath.

Berger gave Saugust a hard glance, but went on. “Not wanting to be accused of academic pirating, I quit the job as liaison and handed it over to Reggie. In private…on my own time…I began working with Shockley on developing a competing drug to Curedon.”

“Where’d you get the money? Where’d you get the lab?”

“Shockley provided the money, told me he’d settle the account once we sold my drug.” Berger rubbed his cheeks. “Since I had no other source of funding, I didn’t probe. As far as the labs…I worked on my off hours and weekends at Fisher/Tyne-”

“So that’s really where you were the night of the murders,” Oliver butted in. “Tustin’s right around the corner from Fisher/Tyne’s labs. You weren’t at any dinner show-”

“I was there-”

“So tell me about the play, Doc. Better yet, whistle me a tune from the musical.”

Berger was silent.

“Way to go, Scott!” Decker said.

Marge shook her head. “I should have picked up on that. Tustin being so close to Fisher/Tyne.”

“Me, too. So this time it’s Scott. He did good.”

“He did good.”

Oliver said, “Your wife wasn’t home when we called your house. Where was she?”

“She had nothing to do-”

“I’m not saying she did,” Oliver interrupted. “Where was she?”

Berger sighed. “At her sister’s house. When I heard the horrid news coming home from the lab, I realized I was going to have to explain why I was so far away from my house. I bought a copy of the Orange County Register, looked in the entertainment section, saw the listing for the dinner show. I stopped by and picked a couple of ticket stubs off the sidewalk. If I had told the truth…that I was at Fisher/Tyne working on a competitive drug, people would have gotten the wrong idea.”

“Or the right one-”

“I did not kill Azor!”

“Detective, please!” Dorman cut in.

Oliver said, “Go on, Dr. Berger.”

“I went home…” Berger sighed again. “Quickly changed into dress clothes, called up my wife, and told her to borrow something dressy from her sister. Then I had her take me to the hospital, to make it look like we were coming back from the theater. She was furious at me…having to invent this facade for me. But…she was also scared. She knew if it all came out…”

“Somebody see you at Fisher/Tyne, Doc?” Oliver asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe. There are guards there. But I don’t check in with them, as I have my own key from Shockley.” Berger dropped his head. “My work is very hush-hush.”

“So no one can verify-”

“I swear I didn’t kill anyone!” Berger was almost in tears. “Look, I’ve taken a lie-detector test. I’ll take another one. I’m telling you the truth.”

“There goes his alibi,” Marge said.

“Don’t he know it,” Decker said.

“What do you think?”

“I think we need to question him extensively.”

“Do you want me to go on?” Berger asked quietly.

Oliver nodded. “Yeah, continue your story, Doc.”

“It’s the truth.”

“Okay, it’s the truth.”

“Where was I?”

“You were working on a competing drug to Curedon.”

“Yes. Correct. And things were going very well. I was making incredibly good progress on my drug…which I named…Marasporin…which was a marriage between several known cyclosporins and Curedon. I was surprised how fast things were going. There was just one problem.”