Thomas Harris - The Silence of the Lambs

"I have the good stuff in my pocketbook," said a voice behind her. "I don't think anything was taken." Starling looked in. the mirror. Senator Ruth Martin stood in the bedroom door. She looked drained.

Starling turned around. "Hello, Senator Martin. Would you like to lie down? I'm almost finished."

Even exhausted, Senator Martin had a lot of presence. Under her careful finish, Starling saw a scrapper.

"Who are you, please? I thought the police were through in here."

"I'm Clarice Starling, FBI. Did you talk to Dr. Lecter, Senator?"

"He gave me a name." Senator Martin lit a cigarette and looked Starling up and down. "We'll see what it's worth. And what did you find in the jewelry box, Officer Starling? What's it worth?"

"Some documentation we can check out in just a few minutes," was the best Starling could do.

"In my daughter's jewelry box? Let's see it."

Starling heard voices in the next room and hoped for an interruption. "Is Mr. Copley with you, the Memphis special agent in--"

"No, he's not, and that's not an answer. No offense, Officer, but I'll see what you got out of my daughter's jewelry box." She turned her head and called over her shoulder. "Paul. Paul, would you come in here? Officer Starling, you may know Mr. Krendler from the Department of Justice. Paul, this is the girl Jack Crawford sent in to Lecter."

Krendler's bald spot was tanned and he looked fit at forty.

"Mr. Krendler, I know who you are. Hello," Starling said. DeeJay Criminal Division congressional liaison, troubleshooter, at least an Assistant Deputy Attorney General, Jesus God, save my bod.

"Officer Starling found something in my daughte'r's jewelry box and she put it in her brown envelope. I think we'd better see what it is, don't you?"

"Officer," Krendler said.

"May I speak to you, Mr. Krendler?"

"Of course you can. Later." He held out his hand.

Starling's face was hot. She knew Senator Martin was not herself, but she would never forgive Krendler for the doubt in his face. Never.

"You got it," Starling said. She handed him the envelope.

Krendler looked in at the first picture and had closed the flap again when Senator Martin took the envelope out of his hands.

It was painful to watch her examine the pictures. When she finished, she went to the window and stood with her face turned up to the overcast sky, her eyes closed. She looked old in the daylight and her hand trembled when she tried to smoke.

"Senator, I--" Krendler began.

"The police searched this room, " Senator Martin said. "I'm sure they found those pictures and had sense enough to put them back and keep their mouths shut."

"No they did not ," Starling said. The woman was wounded but, hell. "Mrs. Martin, we need to know who this man is, you can see that. If it's the boyfriend, fine. I can find that out in five minutes. Nobody else needs to see the pictures and Catherine never needs to know."

"I'll tend to it." Senator Martin put the envelope in her purse, and Krendler let her do it.

"Senator, did you take the jewelry out of the rubber cabbage in the kitchen?" Starling asked.

Senator Martin's aide, Brian Gossage, stuck his head in the door. "Excuse me, Senator, they've got the terminal set up. We can watch them search the William Robin name at the FBI."

"Go ahead, Senator Martin," Krendlei said. "I'll be out in a second."

Ruth Martin left the room without answering Starling's question.

Starling had a chance to look Krendler over as he was closing the bedroom door. His suit was a triumph of single-needle tailoring and he was not armed. The shine was buffed off the bottom half-inch of his heels from walking on much deep carpet, and the edges of the heels were sharp.

He stood for a moment with his hand on the doorknob, his head down.

"That was a good search," he said when he turned around.

Starling couldn't be had that cheap. She looked back at him.

"They turn out good rummagers at Quantico," Krendler said.

"They don't turn out thieves."

"I know that," he said.

"Hard to tell."

"Drop it."

"We'll follow up on the pictures and the rubber cabbage, right?" she said.

"Yes."

"What's the 'William Rubin' name, Mr. Krendler?"

"Lecter says that's Buffalo Bill's name. Here's our transmission to ID section and NCIC. Look at this." He gave her a transcript of the Lecter interview with Senator Martin, blurry copy from a dot-matrix printer.

"Any thoughts?" he said when she finished reading.

"There's nothing here he'll ever have to eat," Starling said. "He says it's a white male named Billy Rubin who had elephant ivory anthrax. You couldn't catch him in a lie here, no matter what happens.' At the worst he'd just be mistaken. I hope this is true. But he could be having fun with her. Mr. Krendler, he's perfectly capable of that. Have you ever… met him?"

Krendler shook his head and snorted air from his nose.

"Dr. Lecter killed nine people we know of. He's not walking, no matter-- he could raise the dead and they wouldn't let him out. So all that's left for him is fun. That's why we were playing him--"

"I know how you were playing him. I heard Chilton's tape. I'm not saying it was wrong-- I'm saying it's over. Behavioral Science can follow up what you got-- the transsexual angle-- for what it's worth. And you'll be back in school at Quantico tomorrow."

Oh boy. "I found something else."

The sheet of colored paper had lain on the bed unnoticed. She gave it to him.

"What is it?"

"Looks like a sheet of Plutos." She made him ask the rest.

He beckoned for the information with his hand.

"I'm pretty sure it's blotter acid. LSD. From maybe the middle seventies or, before. It's a curiosity now. It's worth finding out where she got it. We should test it to be sure."

"You can take it back to Washington and give it to the lab. You'll be going in a few minutes."

"If you don't want to wait, we can do it now with a field kit. If the police've got a standard Narcotics Identification Kit, it's test J, take two seconds, we can--"

"Back to Washington, back to school," he said, opening the door.

"Mr. Crawford instructed me--"

"Your instructions are what I'm telling you. You're not under Jack Crawford's direction now. You're back under the same supervision as any other trainee forthwith, and your business is at Quantico, do you understand me? There's a plane at two-ten. Be on it."

"Mr. Krendler, Dr. Letter talked to me after he refused to talk to the Baltimore police. He might do that again. Mr. Crawford thought--"

Krendler closed the door again, harder than he had to. "Officer Starling, I don't have to explain myself to you, but listen to me. Behavioral Science's brief is advisory, always has been. It's going back to that. Jack Crawford should be on compassionate leave anyway. I'm surprised he's been able to perform as well as he has. He took a foolish chance with this, keeping it from Senator Martin, and he got his butt sawed off. With his record, this close to retirement, even she can't hurt him that much. So I wouldn't worry about his pension, if I were you."

Starling lost it a little. "You've got somebody else who's caught three serial murderers? You know anybody else who's caught one? You shouldn't let her run this, Mr. Krendler."

"You must be a bright kid, or Crawford wouldn't bother with you, so I'll tell you one time: do something about that mouth or it'll put you in the typing pool. Don't you understand-- the only reason you were ever sent to Lecter in the first place was to get some news for your Director to use on Capitol Hill. Harmless stuff on major crimes, the 'inside scoop' on Dr. Lecter, he hands that stuff out like pocket candy while he's trying to get the budget through. Congressmen eat it up, they dine out on it. You're out of line, Officer Starling, and you're out of this case. I know you got supplementary ID. Let's have it."