Dead Men's s Boots

That was a sobering thought, and I was still soberly thinking about it when a man walked into the room. It obviously wasn’t Doug Hunter: too old, for one thing, and for another he didn’t fit the description Jan had given me in any respect at all. He was slightly built, almost bald and very pale. He wore a nondescript light grey suit that looked as faded as his skin, but his eyes were a darker, colder grey, magnified by strong prescription lenses, and his thin face wore an expression of brusque impatience.

‘Mister Castor?’ he inquired. I was expecting him to do the usual comic double take when he saw Juliet, but from where he was standing she must have been out of sight behind me.

‘That’s me,’ I said.

‘My name’s Maxwell. Doctor Maxwell. I’m one of the medical staff here at the prison. Douglas Hunter is a patient of mine, and I need to speak with you before you see him. If you’ve a moment?’

I nodded, but he was taking my assent for granted and already carrying on. ‘Douglas’s condition is still deteriorating,’ he said. ‘Even just in the last few days, there’s been a marked change, and it’s all for the worse.’

My confusion must have shown on my face. ‘He’s not well?’ I said. ‘I didn’t realise—’

Maxwell made a palms-out ‘don’t put words in my mouth’ gesture. ‘The medical situation is complicated by the legal one,’ he said. ‘Not an unusual occurance in here. I’ve made a diagnosis, but you’ll forgive me if I don’t share it with you. The point is that Douglas has had to be quite heavily medicated. With aripiprazole, if that means anything to you.’

‘It doesn’t,’ I admitted.

Maxwell raised his eyebrows expressively. ‘It will mean something to the defence, mark my words,’ he said. ‘The point is, since this is your first visit you’re apt to find him a little odd to talk to. He’ll be drowsy and unresponsive, but at the same time he’s likely to show a certain restlessness and discomfort. These are side effects of the drug, not of his condition.’

s"" wles‘And his condition is –?’ I probed.

Maxwell made the same gesture again. ‘I can’t discuss that with you right now,’ he said, ‘although I’ve discussed it at length with Mrs Hunter. The other reason for me coming in to talk to you like this is that I’m advising you very strongly not to excite or upset Douglas in any way. If you do, it could have an adverse effect on his condition and it could be unpleasant – physically unpleasant, I mean – for you. The governor is keen that you should express understanding of these conditions. He would have liked you to sign a waiver, but he’s aware that everything I’m saying here has nuances which could be significant in a court of law.’

I shook my head in complete mystification. I had the unusual and uncomfortable sense of meanings flying over my head, unapprehended.

‘You mean that he’s mentally ill?’ I asked, groping blindly in the dark.

‘The governor? No, he’s very well balanced, taking into account a constitutional tendency towards depression.’

‘Doug Hunter.’

‘That would fall under doctor-patient privilege,’ Maxwell said, with a rigidly impassive face.

Juliet appeared at my side and he blanched. It took some doing, with a face that was already so pale.

‘What is aripiprazole, doctor?’ she murmured in her throat. ‘I’ve always wondered.’

Maxwell looked like a distressed fish – if a fish could be simultaneously caught on a hook and out of its depth. ‘Well, that information is in the public domain,’ he floundered. ‘You could look it up very easily.’

‘And if we did?’ Juliet pressed, without mercy. ‘What would we find?’

‘It’s a partial – a partial agonist to the D2 receptor. A dopaminergic modulator, if you will, in the mesolimbic—’

‘In English?’

‘An anti-psychotic!’ Maxwell blurted. ‘I really have to – this comes under-’ ‘Doctor-patient privilege,’ Juliet finished. ‘Of course. Thank you, doctor.’

She moved her head, just a fraction, and Maxwell seemed to wake from a trance. He excused himself with as meaningless a combination of syllables as I’ve ever heard and fled back through the door by which he’d entered.

‘You could have cut him some slack,’ I chided Juliet. ‘He was just trying to do his job.’

‘I was only asking for clarification, Castor.’

‘Sure you were.’

‘And I respected his holding to those professional standards. I admire men whose passions are intellectual and moral. In fact I find that really arousing.’

I gave her a hard look to see if she was taking the piss, but she bowed her head demurely and sat down so I didn’t get a good look at her face. At that moment the door opened again and Doug Hunter came in between two burly guards.

He made quite a strong impression, even in his prison greys.