Free Sins of the Flesh by Colleen McCullough Page B

thanks to Jess, they knew she was a cop.
    “It’s clear that you don’t feel like a fish out of water here, Delia,” said Dr. Moira. “You fit right into this menagerie.”
    “Is that how you see it? As a menagerie?”
    “What Moira means,” said Dr. Fred, “is that you’re extremely clever and resourceful.”
    “Menagerie?” Delia persisted.
    Dr. Moira sniggered. “A collection of queer animals, anyway.”
    And I begin to see why they are disliked, she thought; they patronize. I’ll bet their qualifications are very ordinary, but does that include Ari Melos? Poor Jess! Public service salaries don’t buy brilliant helpers. “Queer as in homosexual?” she asked.
    “Queer as in peculiar,” said Dr. Moira.
    “Why come, if these are not your kind of people?”
    The Castigliones stared at her as if she were—peculiar.
    “Our abiding passion,” said Dr. Fred.
    “And that is?”
    “Music. Moira and I are trying to put an HI orchestra together—I conduct, she plays violin. Music does indeed soothe the savage breast.”
    “Admirable,” said Delia.
    Dr. Ari Melos and his new bride arrived, each drinking red wine; Melos was very pleased to be here, but Rose looked to be out of her depth.
    “A Rha salon is one of the high points of my year,” Melos said, “and I can’t wait for Rose to experience what she’s only heard of until now. I wonder what treats there are in store?”
    And grudgingly the Castigliones nodded.
    Well, well, we move ahead, thought Delia; whatever it is has to do with music.
    Todo Satara sidled up. Bent on being awkward? Delia got in first, hoping to divert him.
    “How many of the Asylum inmates are HI patients, Doctor?” she asked, assuming an interested expression.
    “All of them, if we wish,” Melos said, apparently unaware of Todo’s enmity. “However, at any one time I would say no more than twenty are actively participating in HI programs. You must surely know, Sergeant, that the M’Naghten Rules are so archaic a ‘guilty by reason of insanity’ verdict at trial is rare—the dementia goes on full display after the prison term commences. Anyone in the Asylum is clinically insane, which gives us a fascinatingly rich patient pool to draw from.”
    Todo pounced. “Scary work,” he said. “How do you manage to keep your cool sitting in a session with a homicidal maniac?”
    “Oh, really!” Melos exclaimed. “There speaks the ignorant layman. Sometimes I think the general public still believes that the warders wear suits of armor and keep the inmates at bay with high-pressure water hoses. Inmates are properly prepared for their sessions. If they need to be sedated, they are. It’s not dangerous work, Todo—in fact, it’s more likely to be boring.”
    Dr. Fred took over. “HI has state and federal funds, and has one aim: to remove violent, sociopathic crime from humanity’s list of unacceptable behavior. One day we’ll be able to cure the physiologically violent criminal.”
    “Oh, sure!” Todo sneered, looking militant. “It happens now, guys—some axe murderer is released as cured, and what’s the first thing he does outside the prison walls? Kills more people with his trusty axe. Psychiatrists play God, and that’s a very dangerous role.”
    But Melos and Dr. Fred merely laughed.
    “Blame the press, Todo, not psychiatrists,” Melos said. “No journalist ever wastes space on the thousands of successful cases. The one-in-a-million failure gets the publicity.”
    Dr. Moira chimed in. “Setting an inmate at liberty isn’t under psychiatric control,” she said. “The steps taken to release a patient considered a danger to the community are multiple as well as agonizing for all concerned. Boards, committees, panels, reviews, outside consultations, exhaustive enquiries, investigations and tests—it’s a near-endless list.” She looked complacent. “Besides, Asylum inmates aren’t ever considered for release. HI is like Caesar’s wife, above