A.C.?”
“How did the inmates handle it?”
Swig sat back. “It was a bit of a… challenge. So… how can I help you?”
“Any ideas about Dr. Argent’s murder?”
Swig shook his head. “I can understand your thinking it might be work-related, but I term that impossible. Because of one simple fact: Dr. Argent’s patients are here, and she was murdered out there.” He pointed at the window. “Add to that the fact that her tenure was totally trouble-free, and there’s nothing to work with, is there?”
“Model employee?”
“I was very impressed with her. Calm, level, thoughtful. Everyone liked her.
Including the patients.”
“That makes the patients sound rational,” said Milo.
“Pardon?”
“The patients liked her, so they wouldn’t hurt her. I thought the men here didn’t operate out of any logical motive pattern. So what’s to say one of them didn’t hear a voice telling him to cut Dr. Argent’s throat?”
No mention of the eyes. He was keeping that confidential.
Swig tightened his lips. “Yes. Well, they are psychotic, but most of them are very well maintained. But what’s the difference? The main point is, they don’t leave here.”
Milo took out his pad and scrawled for a while. That almost always gets a reaction.
Swig raised his eyebrows. They were pale blond, nearly invisible, and the movement created two crescent-shaped wrinkles above his clear blue eyes.
Milo’s pen stopped moving. He said, “No one ever gets out?”
Swig shifted in his chair. “I won’t tell you never. But very, very rarely.”
“How rare?”
“Only two percent even attempt to obtain release, and most of those never make it past our review committee. Of those who are reviewed, perhaps five percent succeed in obtaining conditional release. That means placement in well-supervised board and care, regular outpatient treatment, and random uri-nalysis to monitor medication compliance. Additionally, they must continue to show absolutely no symptoms of dangerous decompensation. Any minor infraction lands them back here. Of those who do leave, the revocation rate is still eighty percent. Since I’ve been here, never has a released patient committed a violent felony. So, for all practical purposes, it’s a non-issue.”
“How long have you been here?”
“Five years.”
“Before that?”
“Before that, there were a few problems.”
“So,” said Milo, scanning his notes. “With so few men released, it should be easy enough to track those who’ve gotten out.”
Swig clapped his hands together very softly. “Yes, but that would require a court order. Even our men have rights-for example, we can’t monitor their mail without clear evidence of infraction.”
“You can dose them, but no snooping?”
“The difference is that dosing them is for their own good.” Swig wheeled his chair forward. “Look, I’m not trying to make your job difficult, Detective, but I really don’t get this line of questioning. I can understand your initial assumption: Dr.
Argent worked with dangerous individuals, and now she’s been murdered. On the face of it, that’s logical. But as I said, it’s probably safer at Starkweather than on your beat.”
“So you’re telling me I need to file papers to find out who’s been released.”
“I’m afraid so. Believe me, if there was some obvious risk, don’t you think I’d let you know? If only for our sake. We can’t afford errors.”
“Okay,” said Milo with an ease that made me glance at him. “Let’s move on. What can you tell me about Dr. Argent’s personality?”
“I didn’t know her well,” said Swig, “but she was competent, quiet, businesslike. No conflicts with staff or patients.” He picked up a folder and scanned the contents.
“Here’s something I can give you. Her personnel file.”
“Thank you, sir.” Milo took it and handed it to me and resumed jotting notes. Inside were Claire Argent’s job application, an abbreviated resume, and a headshot photo.
The resume was five pages thick. Several published studies. Neuropsychology.
Reaction time in alcoholics. Solid journals. A clinical appointment as a lecturer.
Why had she quit to come here?
The picture revealed a pretty, slightly broad face brightened by a shy half-smile.
Thick, dark hair, shoulder-length, flipped at the edges, feathery bangs, white
hairband, baby blue crewneck top. Clear skin, very little makeup, big dark eyes. The first adjective that came to my mind was “wholesome.” Maybe a little too ingenue for someone her age, though she looked closer to thirty than the thirty-nine established by her birthdate.