Chapter 8
Considering it was 8:00 in the morning and Clarice and Alessandro were walking into a police station filled with individuals trained in surveillance, it seemed like more than just one wizened sergeant should notice Alessandro sporting yesterday's clothes, now slightly rumpled.
But only Ispettore Gregoris looked up at the passing couple and smiled, mostly to himself, remembering his last night of debauchery. The smile broke out into a full faced grin; that night had been a week ago.
Alessandro bypassed his desk and escorted Clarice to a small room at the back of the station.
It was essentially a shrine to Il Medico.
Two tall but narrow windows, dingy with the city's grime, cast a gray illumination on five photos of seemingly peaceful faces. Each photograph acted as the center of a web, with yarn stretching to other photos related to that particular crime scene.
The yarn was red, and Clarice thought, follow the trails of blood...
Her eyes traveled from the second victim's sleeping visage to a photo of the home's backdoor, one glass pane shattered. She'd already seen it, of course, had studied it intently. But seeing all of Il Medico's horrors simultaneously, and then realizing the five photos had been spaced in such a way as to allow additional ones to be pinned up...
She hadn't realized she was fixated on the wall until Alessandro grasped her shoulder, calling her name. She was about to ask for Post-it notes when his hand dropped to her lower back and began rubbing gently.
"Hey" her voice sharp, "cut that shit out."
His hand immediately dropping, he answered her in a decidedly cold tone, "Forgive me, you seemed distressed."
A long ago conversation with Brigham flashed through her mind, they'd been admiring the wisdom of the platitude "Don't shit where you eat." She hoped she wouldn't have cause to regret last night.
"Look Alessandro. In this room, at this time, we're colleagues. Nothing more, nothing less." She held his eyes with her own for several beats, and when he gave her a small nod she continued, softer, "Outside this room, when we're off duty, that's another story." Another nod and a slow smile from him. "Good. Do you have Post-it notes?"
Walking across the close space, he reached a metal desk pushed against the wall and slid its top drawer open. Inside were some basic office supplies, Clarice noted, and he fished out a package of the sticky notes for her. Bringing them to her, along with a pen, she thanked him with a small but genuine smile.
She scrawled "All POE's require little physical strength." Then she pulled the note from the pad and stuck it next to the photo of the backdoor. It hadn't been pointed out in the case file, and it was time to get the many eyes that studied this wall everyday considering it. But wait, looking to Alessandro she asked, "Will the officers here understand a note in English?"
A bobbing of his head "Ah, so so. Maybe a third of Italians speak English, perhaps a little more in the law enforcement world." He reached down for a second note and jotted a quick translation, then he handed it to her and she placed it below hers.
Alessandro said, "Bene" and Clarice knew they'd be all right. He went on, "My supervisor has, of course, been informed of your presence. You have full clearance here. You're being labeled a 'consultant.' I'm going to let you settle in, get a feel for what we do have. Coffee?"
A bigger smile from her this time, "Yes please." [D]
Alessandro left the room. Clarice turned back to the wall of horror.
She decided not to look for confirmation of her ideas, but for new information, things she didn't know yet. She took her own file from her backpack, opened it and flipped the pages with general information until she found the first page on the third victim.
Clarice wasn't even fully aware she shortly bowed her head and closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She did register five was an awful lot of victims already. It was her duty to avoid an additional center picture to the wall.
A sound from behind woke her from her reverie; Alessandro with a good mug of coffee, not Styrofoam but real earthenware. Then she saw he had written her name on it. She burst out into laughter. Alessandro grinned along.
"You deserve your own mug, just like the rest of us," he said when her laughter had subsided enough, and showed her his own - a giant flower decorated one. He put her mug on the table.
"A gift from my colleagues, to replace the one my mother gave me, it looked a lot like this one, but it accidently fell on the floor within a week..." he said and Clarice could see him blush slightly again. She liked to see him blush.
"I will leave you for now. You know where to find me if you need me," he concluded. Clarice smiled and nodded, Alessandro then left the room.
Clarice faced the third web.
Ah, the antepenultimate, the familiar voice in her head spoke.
Cut it out, Doc. Third to last, okay?
As you wish. What do you see?
Let me see. Mantova, that's Mantua in English. Luigi Gonzaga, age 2...
Clarice bowed her head once more. Childless Clarice could swear she could feel a mother's pain for loss of a child, if only for a moment.
Yes? the voice interrupted her thoughts after a few seconds, coaxing her gently but firmly back to the case.
Well, let's see, Dr. Lecter. Mother died half a year before child was killed. Father at first suspect of killing his own son, but had a watertight alibi, though not one to be proud of. He was having dinner with friends in a trattoria while his child remained at home - asleep but alone.
Clarice looked at the picture of the petty apartment building.
Tornado bait, Clarice?
You could say that, yes. You'd call them impecunious, wouldn't you?
…
What's up, Doc? Did I step on your toes?
"Pardon me, Mister Wabbit, but Mr. Humphwey Bogart would just wove to have you for dinner."
I'm sorry, Dr. Lecter?
Excuse me, I could not resist quoting Elmer Fudd there.
Yeah, I bet. Now, can we cut to the chase?
Certainly.
And Clarice focused on the pictures once again. Slowly, she worked her way through the disturbing pictures and information on the wall, taking notes and adding them to her own file. When she was through, she called Alessandro. A receptionist told her he was out. Clarice asked the woman where she could buy some lunch. She was unsure if she should be angry at Alessandro.
After lunch, she worked her way through the pile of information in overfilled manila folders, but had only managed a third when Alessandro entered the room. It turned dark outside already.
"How are you doing?" he asked. "I saw a note, you called me. For lunch, I think? I'm sorry, I was out and had no time to tell you. Something came up and we had to check it."
"It's okay," Clarice said.
"Would you like some dinner? Nothing fancy, not like yesterday. A good meal, that's all. And then perhaps I show you Milan?"
"Sure. And I'll pay this time!"
Alessandro started to speak, but Clarice's face made him reconsider.
"Okay," he said. [MB]
A/N~ The Major is on vacation for the next two weeks, so our story will not be updated until his return. Also, just wanted to throw a big "thank you" out there to those who have taken the time to alert, favorite, or review.