General."
"Any idea why she transferred?" I said.
"She said she needed a change. I got a sense she didn't want to talk about it. My feeling is that she'd simply had enough of what she was doing. I used to be in private practice, retired, got bored with golf, came here."
"Did you get the sense that she needed more human contact than neuropsych provided?"
I asked. It was a psychologist's question, not a cop's, and Aldrich studied me.
"I suppose," he said. "In any event, I don't imagine any of this has much to do with what happened to her."
"Why's that?" said Milo.
"She got killed out there." Aldrich pointed to a wall. "The wonderful, democratic, normal world." He looked over at Hatterson as if first noticing the little man, laced his hands behind his back, scanned Hatterson from toe-tip to head.
"Circulating, Phil?"
"Mr. Swig asked me to show them around, Dr. Aldrich."
"I see. Well, do that, then." Aldrich faced Milo. "I wish we could help you,
Detective, but we're all stymied."
"So you've discussed what happened?"
The three of them exchanged looks.
"Yes, of course," said Aldrich. "We were all upset. What we found out is that none of us knew Dr. Argent. It spurred us to be more social with each other. Good luck getting to the bottom of it."
"One more thing," said Milo. "The group Dr. Argent ran, Skills for Daily Living.
Would it be possible to meet with the patients?"
"You'd have to check with administration on that," said Aldrich.
"Would you see a problem with it? Medically speaking."
Aldrich tugged at his tie. "Let me look into that. I want to make sure we don't... upset anything."
"Appreciate it, Doctor." Milo gave him and the others business cards.
The elevator arrived. Aldrich said, "You three ride down first. We'll catch it next time."
As we descended, Hatterson said, "Dr. Aldrich is very, very smart."
Milo said, "How long have you been here, Phil?"
Hatterson's head drew back like that of a turtle poked with a stick. His reply was inaudible.
"What's that, Phil?"
Hatterson began smoothing his mustache. Chomped his lower lip with his upper teeth.
"A long time."
He stayed in the car and waved us out.
"Goddamn weenie," said Milo, as we walked back toward the reception area. "Didn't get a chance to speak with the Ott girl-better get her home number and follow up.
Everyone here spouts the same line: 'This place is as safe as milk.'You buy it?"
"They broke up that fight pretty fast."
"Yeah, okay, let's assume they've got the lunatics well controlled. You see anything that would lure Claire away from County?"
"Maybe all the structure," I said. "No more applying for grants or having to play the academic game. Aldrich said she talked about needing a change."
"Structured or not, the place creeps me out.... We didn't even scratch the surface, did we?"
"Maybe there's nothing below the surface."
He didn't answer. We passed Swig's office. The door was closed. "Okay, I'll get Ms.
Ott's number, then we fly out of here. If you've got time, I can show you Argent's house. Out in the evil, messy, normal world. The longer I stay here, the more I crave the insanity out there."
Lindeen Schmitz was back on the phone and she barely looked up. Milo stationed himself in front of her desk and leaned forward, imposing on her space. Where does a frustrated, six-three, 240-pound cop stand? Anywhere he wants.
She tried to "uh-huh" her way through a conversation that was clearly personal, finally said, "Gotta go," and hung up.
"Yes, sir?"
Milo grinned down at her. "I need to do some follow-up with one of your staffers.
Heidi Ott. May I have her home number, please?"
"Um, I'm not sure I can do that without
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