the fog.

The nursing home was a beige stuccoone-storied building taking up most of a narrow deep lot. I rang the bell ateight o'clock precisely. Dr. Godwin must have been waiting behind the door. Heunlocked it and let me in himself.

"You're a punctual man, Mr.Archer."

His changeable eyes had taken the stonycolor of the morning. I noticed when he turned to shut the door behind us thathis shoulders were permanently stooped. He was wearing a fresh white smock.

"Sit down, won't you? This is as gooda place to talk as any."

We were in a small reception room orlounge. I sat in one of several worn armchairs aimed at a silent television setin one corner. Through the inner door I could hear the rattle of dishes and thebright voices of nurses beginning the day.

"Is this your place, doctor?"

"I have an interest in it. Most ofthe patients here are mine. I've just been giving some shock treatments."He smoothed the front of his smock. "I'd feel less like a witch-doctor ifI knew why electric shocks make depressed people feel better. So much of ourscience, or art, is still in the empirical stage. But the people do getbetter," he said with a sudden grin, too sudden to touch his watching,waiting eyes.

"Is Dolly?"

"Yes, I think she's somewhat better.We don't have overnight cures, of course. I want to keep an eye on her for atleast a week. Here."

"Is she fit to be questioned?"

"I don't want you to question her, oranyone else remotely connected with the—the world of crime andpunishment." As if to remove the curse from his refusal, he flung himselfloosely into the armchair beside me, asked me for a cigarette and let me lightit.

"Why not?"

"I do not love the law in its currentprimitive state, where sick people are trapped into betraying themselves intheir sickness and then treated by the courts as if they were well. I've beenfighting the situation for a long time." He rested his ponderous bald headon the back of the chair, and blew smoke toward the ceiling.

"What you say suggests that Dolly is in dangerfrom the law."

"I was making a general statement."

"Which applied specifically to Dolly.We don't have to play games, doctor. We're both on the same side. I don'tassume the girl is guilty of anything. I do think she has information which mayhelp me to clear up a murder."

"But what if she's guilty?" hesaid, watching for my reaction.

"Then I'd want to cooperate with youin getting charges reduced, finding mitigating circumstances, making a case formerciful treatment by the court. Remember I'm working for her husband. Is sheguilty?"

"I don't know."

"You have talked to her this morning?"

"She did most of the talking. I don'task many questions. I wait and I listen. In the end you learn more thatway." He gave me a meaningful look, as if I should start applying thisprinciple.

I waited and listened. Nothing happened. Aplump woman with long black hair straggling down the back of her cotton robeappeared in the inside doorway. She stretched out her arms to the doctor.

He lifted his hand like a weary king."Good morning, Nell."

She gave him a bright agonized smile andsoftly withdrew, like a woman walking backward in her sleep. Her outstretchedarms were the last I saw of her.

"It would be helpful if you told mewhat Dolly had to say this morning."

"And possibly dangerous." Godwincrushed out his cigarette in a blue ceramic ashtray which looked homemade."There is after all a difference between you and me. What a patient saysto me is a professional confidence. You have no professional standing. If yourefused to repeat information in court you could be jailed for contempt. I could,under the law, but I'm not likely to be."

"I've sweated out contempt before.And the police won't get anything out of me that I don't choose to tell them.That's a guarantee."

"Very well." Godwin nodded hishead once, decisively. "I'm concerned about Dolly and I'll try to tell youwhy without any professional jargon. You may be able to put together theobjective jigsaw puzzle while I'm reconstructing the subjective one.

"You said no professional jargon,doctor."

"Sorry. First there's her history.Her mother Constance McGee brought her to me at the instigation of her sisterAlice, a woman I know slightly, when Dolly was ten years old. She wasn't ahappy child. In fact she was in some danger of becoming really withdrawn, forgood reason. There's always good reason. Her father McGee was an irresponsibleand violent man who couldn't handle the duties of fatherhood. He blew hot andcold on the child, spoiled her and punished her, constantly fought with hiswife and eventually left her, or was left, it hardly matters. I would havepreferred to treat him instead of Dolly, since he was the main source of thetrouble in the family. But he was unreachable."

"Did you ever see him?"

"He wouldn't even come in for aninterview," Godwin said with regret. "If I could have reached him, Imight have been able to prevent a murder. Perhaps not. From what I've been toldhe was a severely maladjusted man who needed help but never got it. You canunderstand my bitterness about the gap between psychiatry and the law. Peoplelike McGee are allowed to run around loose, without preventive action of anykind, until they commit a crime. Then of course they're hauled into court andsent away for ten or twenty years. But not to a hospital. To a prison."

© Alexander Sviyash, 2009