"I got the impression that the mother was using the medication in a haphazard way - giving her an extra pill on days when there were lots of visitors at the apartment complex."

"I'll have to check that." He didn't sound concerned. "You have to remember, Alex, that this child does not exist in a vacuum. There's a social context here. If there's nowhere for her mother and her to live, that isn't exactly therapeutic, is it?"

I listened, certain there was more. Sure enough: "Now you may ask, what about psychotherapy? What about behavior modification? My answer is: What about them? There is no chance of this particular mother developing the capacity for insight to successfully benefit from psychotherapy. And she lacks the ability to even comply with a stable system of rules and regulations necessary for behavior mod. What she can deal with is administering three pills a day to her child. Pills that work. And I don't mind telling you, I don't feel a damn bit guilty about prescribing them, because I think they're this child's only hope."

It was a great ending. No doubt it made a big hit at the Western Pediatric Ladies Auxiliary Tea. But basically it was all crap. Pseudoscientific gibberish mixed in with a lot of condescending fascism. Dope up the Untermenschen to make them good citizens.

He had worked himself up a bit. But now he was perfectly composed, as handsome and in control as ever.

"I haven't convinced you, have I?" He smiled.

"It's not a matter of that. You raise some interesting points. I'll have to think about it."

"That's always a good idea, thinking things over." He rubbed his hands together. "Now, back to what you came for - and please forgive my little diatribe. You really think that taking this child off stimulants will make her more susceptible to hypnosis." "I do."

"Despite the fact that her concentration will be poorer?"

"Despite that. I've got inductions that are especially suited for children with short attention spans."

The snowy eyebrows rose.

"Oh, really? I'll have to find out about those. You know, I did some hypnosis, too. In the Army, for pain control. I know it works."

"I can send you some recent publications."

"Thank you, Alex." He rose and it was clear that my time was up.

"Pleasure to meet you, Alex." Another handshake.

"The pleasure is mine, Will." This was getting sickening.

The unasked question hung in the air. Towle snagged it.

"I'll tell you what I'm going to do," he said, smiling ever faintly.

"Yes?"

"I'm going to think about it."

"I see."

"Yes, I'll think it over. Call me in a couple of days."

"I'll do that, Will." And may your hair and teeth fall out overnight, you sanctimonious bastard.

On the way out Edna glared and Sandi smiled at me. I ignored them both and rescued Milo from the trio of munchkins that was climbing over him as if he were playground equipment. We made our way through the now - boiling mob of children and mothers and reached the car safely.

5

I told Milo about the encounter with Towle as we drove back to my place.

"Power play." His forehead creased and cherry sized lumps appeared just above his jawline.

"That and something else that I can't quite figure. He's a strange guy. Comes across very courtly - almost obsequious - then you realize he's playing games."

"Why'd he have you come all the way out there for something like that?"

"I don't know." It was a puzzle, his taking time out from a frantic afternoon to deliver a leisurely lecture. Our entire conversation could have been handled in a five - minute phone call. "Maybe it's his idea of recreation. One - upping another professional."

"Hell of a hobby for a busy man."

"Yeah, but the ego comes first. I've met guys like Towle before, obsessed with being in control, with being the boss. Lots of them end up as department heads, deans and chairmen of committees."

"And captains and inspectors and police chiefs."

"Right…"

"You going to call him like he said?" He sounded defeated.

"Sure, for what it's worth." "Yeah."

Milo reclaimed his Fiat and after a few moments of prayer and pumping it started up. He leaned out of the window and looked at me wearily.

"Thanks, Alex. I'm going to go home and crash. This no - sleep routine is catching up with me…"

"You want to take a nap here and then head out?"

"No thanks. I'll make it if this pile of junk will." He slapped the dented door. "Thanks anyway."

"I'll follow up with Melody."

"Great. I'll call you tomorrow." He drove a way until I stopped him with my shout. He backed up.

"What?"

"It's probably not important, but I thought I'd mention it. The nurse in Towle's office told me Melody's dad's in prison."

He nodded somnambulantly.

"So's half the county. It's that way when the economy goes bad. Thanks."

Then he was off.

It was six - fifteen and already dark. I lay down on my bed for a few minutes and when I awoke it was after nine. I got up, washed my face, and called Robin. No one answered.

I took a quick shave, threw on a windbreaker and drove down to Hakata, in Santa Monica. I drank sake and ate sushi for an hour, and bantered with the chef, who, as it turned out had a master's degree in psychology from the University of Tokyo.

I got home, stripped naked, and took a hot bath, trying to erase all thoughts of Morton Handler, Melody Quinn and L.W. Towle, M.D." from my mind. I used self - hypnosis, imagining Robin and myself making love on top of a mountain in the middle of a rain forest. Flushed with passion I got out of the tub and called her again. After ten rings, she answered, mumbling and confused and half - asleep.

I apologized for waking her, told her I loved her and hung up.

Half a minute later she called back.

"Was that you, Alex?" She sounded as if she was dreaming.

"Yes, honI'm sorry to wake you."

"No, that's okay - what time is it?"

"Eleven - thirty."

"Oh, I must have conked out. How are you, sweetie?"

"Fine. I called you around nine."

"I was out all day buying wood. There's an old violin - maker out in Simi Valley who's retiring. I spent six hours choosing tools and picking out maple and ebony. I'm sorry I missed you."

She sounded exhausted.

"I'm sorry too, but go back to bed. Get some sleep and I'll call you tomorrow."

"If you want to come over, you can."

I thought about it. But I was too restless to be good company.

"No, doll. You rest. How about dinner tomorrow? You pick the place."

"Okay, darling." She yawned - a soft, sweet sound. "I love you."

"Love you too."

It took me a while to fall asleep and when I finally did, it was restless slumber, punctuated by black - and white dreams with lots of frantic movement in them. I don't remember what they were about, but the dialogue was sluggish and labored, as if everyone were talking with paralyzed lips and mouths filled with wet sand.

In the middle of the night I got up to check that the doors and windows were locked.