"So it's medicine he's talking about now," Gallison said, unable to keep a slight trace of acidity out of his voice, but wishing, almost instantly, that he hadn't spoken at all. "I only used that as an example," Fenton said, his voice sharpening slightly. "But it spells the difference between a crack medical diagnostician and a bad one. It's always those little, subtle intangibles you have to take into consideration. And that's really just another way of saying you have to have imagination to be either a good cop or a good doctor." A slightly wistful look came into Fenton's eyes. "I sometimes wish I'd taken up medicine. Healing people is much better than wallowing in the kind of ugly--Oh, well, skip it." "But you can't clear a self-confessed murderer completely on that basis alone," Gallison protested. "His confession could be off in a hundred ways, and he could still be guilty. At least ... it would remain a possibility. You practically just admitted that yourself. If we had other evidence ... and we do have a little additional evidence ... we could still take it before a jury." "You mean the DA could," Fenton said, his voice becoming tinged with the kind of impatience a grammar-school teacher might have displayed toward a pupil who had just pulled a boner in geography. "What are you trying to do--add to our burdens? The DA could take it before a jury, all right. But he'd get his ears pinned so far back that the next time he ran for election it would be as a dog-catcher. Did you ever hear of an alibi, Gallison? Or is that too involved a point of law for you?" Lieutenant Fenton sighed heavily and his voice softened a little. "Sorry, Gallison. That was a lousy thing for me to say. But at least you know that I wasn't pulling rank on you. It's something I've never done or never will do--unless you come in here and toss your badge on the desk and I have to hand it back to you and tell you to go through channels." "Okay, Joe. I understand. Don't let it worry you." "A policeman shouldn't have nerves, I guess. But things have been moving a little too fast for me in this case." "Just how good is his alibi?" Gallison asked. "Iron-plated," Fenton said. "And of course it isn't _his_ alibi in a strict sense, because he didn't even present it to us. It's an alibi we'll have to force him to accept as absolute proof that he couldn't have done it, because we want him to walk out of here without hallucinating when we release him. Otherwise someone might get the idea that this is a side wing of Bellevue. We've done our best so far to create that impression anyway." "You mean--you think he may be ... a psycho?" "Yes--and no," Fenton said. "That's sure enlightening. Gets right back to what you just said about medical diagnosis. Maybe you should have been a psychiatrist, Joe."