"Oh. No, not really, Detective Sturgis. This is generally a peaceful place. Probably safer than the streets of L.A. Especially since the air-conditioning's fixed. No, I'm as shockable as anyone."

"The air-conditioning?"

"We had a problem," said Swig. "The condensers went out a few years ago. Before I arrived." He raised his hands, palms up. "My predecessor couldn't get them fixed. As you might imagine, the comfort of our patients isn't a high priority in Sacramento. Staff attrition's what finally did it. People started quitting. I filed a report, we finally got a new system. Today's a perfect example-can you imagine it without 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."