'Like Dr. Djibouti?' he asked.
Mainwaring tried to hide his surprise behind a veil of smoke.
'Yes,' he said, exhaling. 'Dr. Djibouti. And Drs. Kline and Bieber.'
'Reason I know his name is when I called the hospital to talk to you, they hooked me up with the psychiatrist on call, who was Dr. Djibouti. Very nice guy. What is he, Iranian?'
'Indian.'
'He said you'd been out for four days.'
'I've had a nasty cold.' As if illustrating, he sniffled.
'What do you do for it?'
'Aspirin, fluids, rest.'
Milo snapped his fingers and gave an aw-shucks grin.
'That's it, huh? For a minute I thought I might pick up a medical secret.'
'I wish I had one to offer you, Sergeant.'
'What about chicken soup?'
'As a matter of fact, I cooked a pot last night. A noble palliative.'
'Let's talk about drugs,' said Milo. 'On a theoretical level.'
'Really, Sergeant, I'm sure you're aware that my position as a defence witness for Mr. Cadmus precludes any discussion of his case with the police.'
'That's not exactly true, Doctor. It's only your conversations with Cadmus, your notes, and your final report that are off-limits. And once you testify in court, even those will be fair game.'
Mainwaring shook his head.
'Not being an attorney, I can't evaluate the validity of that assertion, Sergeant. In any event, I have nothing to offer by way of theoretical speculation. Every case must be judged on its own merits.'
Milo leaned forward suddenly and cracked his knuckles. The sound made Mainwaring flinch.
'You could call Souza,' said the detective. 'If he decides to be straight, he'll admit I'm right and tell you to cooperate. Or he might advise you to stonewall while he pushes enough paper to stall me - to avoid looking like a patsy; lawyers like to play power games. In the meantime,
you'd be wasting time: taken out of this nice warm house; forced to take a long ride in this kind of weather; sitting in an ugly room down at the West L.A. station; cooling your heels while Souza and the DA sling fifty-dollar words at each other. All at the expense of your paperwork. And after it's over, chances are you'll still be required to talk to me.'
'To what end, Sergeant? What's the purpose of this?'
'Police business,' said Milo, opening the pad again and writing in it.
Mainwaring bit down hard on the pipe.
'Sergeant,' he said between clenched jaws, 'I do believe you're trying to bully me.'
'Far from it, Doc. Just trying to show you your options.'
The psychiatrist glared at me.
'How can your ethics allow you to participate in this type of outrageousness?'
When I didn't answer, he stood and walked to a phone resting on an end table. He lifted the receiver and punched three digits before putting it down.
'Just what is it you want to know?'
'How different drugs affect behaviour.'
'On a theoretical level?'
'Right.'
He sat down again.
'What kind of behaviour, Sergeant?'
'Psychosis.'
'Dr. Delaware and I have already discussed that, as I'm sure he's told you.' Wheeling on me: 'Why in blazes are you pursuing a dead issue?'
'This has nothing to do with Dr. Delaware,' said Milo. 'Like I said, it's police business.'
'Then why is he here?'
'As a technical adviser. Would you rather he wait in another room?'
That suggestion seemed to alarm the psychiatrist.
'No.' He shrank back defeatedly. 'What's the difference at this point? Just get on with it.'
'Great. Let's talk a little about LSD, Doc. It stimulates schizophrenia, doesn't it?'
'Not very effectively.'
'No? I thought it was a pretty good psychotomimetic'
The use of the esoteric term raised Mainwaring's eyebrows.
'For research purposes only,' he said.
Milo stared at him expectantly, and he threw up his hands.
'It's difficult to explain in a brief discussion,' he said. 'Suffice it to say that an educated party would never confuse LSD toxicity with chronic psychosis.'
'I'm willing to be educated,' said Milo.
Mainwaring started to protest, then straightened his shoulders, cleared his throat and assumed a pedantic tone.
'Lysergic acid diethylamide,' he intoned, 'evokes an acute, rather stereotypic psychoticlike reaction that once caused some researchers to view it as an attractive tool for study. Clinically, however, its effects differ significantly from the symptoms of the chronic schizophrenias.'
'What do you mean by significantly?'
'LSD intoxication is characterised by florid visual distortions - arrays of colours, often dark green or brown; dramatic changes in the shapes or sizes of familiar objects -and overwhelming delusions of omnipotence. LSD users may feel huge, godlike, capable of anything. Which is why some of them jump out of windows, convinced they can fly. When hallucinations occur in schizoprenia, they are typically auditory. Schizophrenics hear voices, are tormented by them. The voices may be muddled and indistinct or quite clear. They may admonish the patient, insult him, tell him he is worthless or evil, instruct him to carry out bizarre behaviours. While omnipotent feelings can exist in schizophrenia, they usually ebb and flow in relation to a complex paranoiac system. Most schizophrenics feel worthless, entrapped, insignificant. Threatened.' He sat back and smoked, trying to look professional but not succeeding. 'Anything else, Sergeant?'
'I've seen LSD trippers who were hearing things,' said Milo. 'And plenty who were pretty paranoid.'
'That's true,' said Mainwaring. 'But in LSD abuse the auditory disturbance is generally secondary to the visual. And quite often subjectively positive. The patient reports sensory enhancement: Music sounds fuller, sweeter. Humdrum sounds acquire richer timbres. The paranoia you cite is typical of the unpleasant LSD experience - the so-called bum trip. The majority of LSD reactions, however, are experienced as positive. Mind-expanding. Which is in stark contrast with schizophrenia, Sergeant.'
'No happy madmen?'
'Unfortunately not. Schizophrenia is a disease, not a recreational state. The schizophrenic rarely experiences pleasure. On the contrary, his world is bleak and terrifying; his suffering, intense - a private hell, Sergeant. And prior to the development of biological psychiatry, that hell was often permanent.'
'What about PCP?'
'Cadmus was tested for it. As he was for LSD.'
'We're not talking about Cadmus, remember?'
Mainwaring blanched, blinked, and struggled to regain pedagogic aloofness. His lips tightened, and a white ring formed around them.
'Yes, of course. That's exactly why I didn't want to have this discussion - '
'How's that cold?'
The white ring expanded, then disappeared as the psychiatrist forced his face to relax.
'Much better, thank you.'
'Figured it had to be 'cause I haven't heard you sniff since that first time. Four days, you say?'
'Three and a half. The symptoms have just about disappeared.'
