DINING AL FRESCO

Pearsall had made a few phone calls on their behalf, so an appointment was made with the lead detective to go over the evidence found at the main gate. There was one codicil to the arrangement. No Hannibal. He was not, under any circumstances, to be brought anywhere near the police station. Pearsall's orders.

The moment Clarice, Ardelia and Logan took the ride to the police headquarters to see what they might be able to find out about the case, Hannibal went to his study. The baby was sleeping, and with time on his hands, Hannibal had a letter to write.

Sitting in front of the blank piece of paper he stared for a moment. There wasn't much he wanted to say.

Holding the quill he'd cut from the found tail feather of Harpia Harpyja, the Harpy Eagle, he poised to write. He gripped the calamus and, rolling his thumb, index and middle fingers, began to spin the feather. He then stroked the vane across his cheek much like he would a straight edged razor, contemplated the body of the letter.

A simple thank you? Perhaps.

Again, spinning it between the pads of his fingertips, Hannibal enjoyed the pattern of this long, dark grey feather with the alternating horizontal bars. The beauty and symmetry appealed to him as much as the fact that Harpies mates for life and feast on sloths. Hannibal thought, as a hunter, perhaps they had that in common. The idea amused as he smoothed the heel of his hand across the paper, angled his head slightly, and dipped his pen in the well of ink to begin the correspondence. Scrolling the letters in his elegant copperplate, he authored:

Dear Lady Murasaki,

I hope this letter finds you well. Please accept my apologies for the lateness of this reply unfortunately personal circumstances prevented a timely response.

Please allow me to thank you for the gift you bestowed upon my son. It was a thoughtful and meaningful choice. I will indeed share the rich history of the armor and the proud family from whence it came with Hannibal as he comes of age. You may rest assured that I will care for and protect your heritage until he reaches adulthood and is prepared to accept the responsibility that comes with owning such a priceless family heirloom.

Again, I offer my appreciation for the thoughtfulness and generosity of your gift to my son, and for your letter as well. My most precious wife, Clarice, will be including an invitation with this letter. Feel free, if it is your inclination, to accept. If you are feeling up to traveling you might like to visit my family to meet your great-nephew, Hannibal. He is a fine boy, and, unlike his namesake, one you will no doubt be quite proud to claim as your family member.

Sincerely,

Hannibal Lecter

Hannibal sat for a moment waiting for the ink to dry. He considered putting the letter in the envelope and sealing it, but thought better of it.

Clarice might like to read this before she writes a letter of her own.

He left the letter in full view on the center of his desk, additionally leaving the stationery out for Clarice's use.

The windows open, the breeze rustling through the trees and pouring over the sill, Hannibal's nostrils flared and his ears pricked.

There is someone outside.

Hannibal judged that someone was near the barn at the outer perimeter of the property. Wishing to intercept the trespasser, he moved with haste to the door, grasped the handle and as he prepared to exit, stopped short.

Hannibal…I can't leave the boy alone. I cannot investigate.

Hannibal lifted his chin and turned his head from side to side as if gathering the scent on his cheeks. He inhaled and exhaled.

The windows on the next level are open…

His mind immediately flashed to the deviant who had accessed their home in Baltimore by utilizing the balcony and climbing equipment. Bolting up the staircase he ran as quickly as his feet could carry him, gripping the rail and pulling at his arms to slingshot his frame, propelling his body forward. The window was indeed open. Hannibal closed the window, locked it and stood beside the crib, his chest heaving from the anxiety and adrenalin rush as the baby began to stir.

"Ah, my son, you sense it as well? Perhaps if you were older, we might hunt together but you are far too young. Not to mention, your mother would be homicidal if I were to take you outside knowing there might be danger. Though I am proud that she is a warrior, she can be a loose cannon at times and I am not foolish enough to provide her with such ammunition, aiming her anger in my direction."

Hannibal sat quietly beside Clarice on the overstuffed sofa as she nursed. She refused to discuss the situation at the police station until the baby finished feeding. That didn't bode well, Hannibal assumed. Had the result been productive or positive in any way she would have been pleased to share the information. That she was hesitant he understood the result to be less than satisfactory, and, as she refused to discuss it while breastfeeding, the cause of anxiety somehow. The moment the child released his mother's breast and Clarice had the opportunity to right her clothing and remove the fabric privacy shield slung over her body, Ardelia stood, extended her arms and beckoned for the baby.

"Hey Clarice, can Logan and I spend some time alone with Dev? Maybe you guys can get lost for a couple of hours. You could use the time alone and the baby won't stay with us if either of you're in the room."

Logan immediately jumped in.

"Yeah, you two can go out and get some dinner or something. You let us go out the other day. Least we can do is return the favor."

Clarice looked at Hannibal, her eyes questioning.

"H?"

Hannibal quietly bumped his thumb along the bottom of his baby's toes, rolling the digit in tiny circles over the ball of his son's foot. Hannibal smiled when the baby spread his toes and tried to grip his father's thumb with them. Though he didn't make eye contact with his wife, he responded, "I don't know whether or not it is safe, Clarice. There was activity outside the home today."

Cupping her hand protectively over the baby's head, she leaned forward to better see Hannibal. There was not fear, but trepidation in her voice.

"Activity? What sort of activity?"

Hannibal's eyes stayed with his son.

"Movement, that is all."

"Any of it caught on camera?" Clarice quizzed, apprehension slowly giving way to fear.

Hearing the rising concern, Hannibal looked up, waving a hand as if dismissing her concerns.

"No, the interloper was cautious, staying just out of the sightline of the cameras. I may add several more to extend the area of coverage."

One hand left the baby as Clarice touched Hannibal's thigh.

"Did he get close, H?"

Feeling the searing intensity of her fear as if her touch burned with it, Hannibal pressed his palms over his wife's hand and trapped it against his thigh, smothering her concerns, he comforted, "He didn't break the perimeter, if that's what you are asking, which means he stayed well out of range of the camera system. Did you have any success at the police station? Have they any new leads."

Discouraged by the lack of control, Clarice's response was laced with frustration as she responded, "They'd have to be looking for leads to find any so no, and we didn't have any success personally, but none of us can pick up a scent like you can."

Equally frustrated that he was unable to participate, Hannibal was far more adept than Clarice at hiding his upset. Instead of revealing his aggravation with the day's events, he answered in a self-deprecating tone, "I would have accompanied you, had I not been expressly requested to remain home with our son, Clarice. When you arrived at the police station, did they have a 'No Cannibals Allowed' sign or was it simply implied."

"Don't be such a wiseass, H. I promised Pearsall if he helped, I'd keep you out of there. He didn't want you delivered to the lead detective with a bow tied around your neck. Clint is convinced they believe you did it and from what we saw today, I think so too."

Hannibal didn't bother asking her to elaborate. Frankly, he really didn't care what the lead investigator thought. If the man wasn't out looking for the killer, better for Hannibal. Then, the man's incompetence wouldn't get in Hannibal's way.

"Of that I have no doubt."

Logan was excited about the prospect of babysitting and tapped his hand on Ardelia's leg, urging her to speak. Ardelia swatted his hand away and pursued, "So…dinner, you two?"

Clarice held the baby close to her body, shifting slightly from Ardelia. Without realizing, she subconsciously shielded the baby from the perceived threat, turning to Hannibal. He was not present in the moment, his eyes unfocused, elsewhere, as was his mind. She could see he was deep in thought, considering something carefully, but she honestly couldn't imagine what it might be.

Still preoccupied with his son's foot, Hannibal spoke quietly, "Dinner sounds like a magnificent idea, Clarice. Al fresco, perhaps."

Surprised he would be willing to leave their son if he'd sensed movement outside the compound, Clarice protested, "But what if someone tries to get into the house?"

Logan jumped to his feet, his arms outstretched in disbelief, "Dude, seriously? If two active FBI agents can't protect one little baby I don't know who the hell can. Not to mention, I'd die before I'd let anything happen to Little Man."

Turning to her husband, Clarice sought confirmation.

H? Are you sure?"

Hannibal nodded to Clarice. His intentions for the evening were becoming quite clear as he outlined each and every move he would make, and the consequences of each choice, within his mind. He began to refocus his plans for the evening with his wife now included, and found he was excited at the prospect of her company in this, though he didn't dare ask in front of her friends. Instead, he began to strategize, arranging in his mind that which he wished to accomplish. That which he wished to uncover…all with Clarice.

"Dinner is a wonderful idea, my Love. We can go somewhere casual. In fact, I have exactly the place in mind."

Ardelia reached for the baby. No longer resisting, Clarice handed her son to her best friend. Logan immediately scooped the baby from Ardelia's arm, lofted him in the air above his head and began making sounds as if the baby was an airplane. Devyni laughed as he was pushed through the air, arching his back to extend his arms and legs. The infant was laughing, obviously loving every single moment of the interaction.

Clarice tipped her head in the direction of Logan, now parading the baby high in the air, buzzing like an airplane, zooming around the home triumphantly.

"You sure? It's not too late to change your mind, H."

Not exactly amused at Logan's antics, but seeing his son was, Hannibal shook his head, "Yes, Clarice. I insist."

Aside from the fact Hannibal insisted they wear what Clarice considered workout gear, sporting what she was certain Hannibal wouldn't wish to be caught dead in replete with sneakers, Hannibal seemed absolutely excited to be away from the compound. That fact seemed enough out of character, but he had never allowed his son to be left in anyone's care before so the fact that he seemed so eager, she was perplexed and wondered why.

Clarice and Hannibal sat in the open patio of the restaurant at a large table watching several men grilling massive hunks of meat. Clarice watched Hannibal carefully, attempting to get into his head. He was behaving very much out of character in her mind. She was perplexed as to why he insisted on such exceptionally casual clothing, especially for her husband. She couldn't recall seeing him wear this particular outfit, and was more than a little surprised when he presented her with a matching ensemble. It was an unseasonably warm day for early August. Snow was forecast for later that evening, but it was warm and sunny for now.

A waiter approached bringing a tray of sliced meats and sausages, placing them in the center of the table, already set with plates and cutlery. Clarice stabbed at a sausage, sliced it on her plate, popping a piece in her mouth.

As she chewed, she waved the empty fork at Hannibal and pronounced, "So, we left our baby with a man-child who thinks he's an airplane and we're sitting here wearing track suits like a couple of New Jersey mobsters; you sure about this, H?"

"Trust that there is a method to my madness, so to speak, Clarice."

"I just think…isn't this a bit beneath you?"

"I am seeking functionality above fashion this evening, as it were."

Hannibal waved a waiter to the table, speaking in Italian, "Per favore, voglio mia bistecca sanguinosa."

Clarice made out the word for steak and bloody, so he obviously wanted his meat more than a little rare. She waited for the man to leave the table with the order before continuing.

"Tracksuits? I can't believe you suggested this! I mean, you're Mr. Suit and Tie, what's with the workout gear? What's with the dining al fresco?"

Hannibal was very aware of his surroundings, watching as people passing around them. Occasionally, he would turn his head, flare his nostrils and gather the scent, but nothing seemed to attract more than cursory attention. Still, Hannibal seemed hyper-vigilant, and possibly a bit excited, again, unusual behavior for such a cautious and highly self-controlled man. He leaned over the roughly hewn timbers forming the tabletop, explaining his thinking with a twinkle in his eye.

"We are dining al fresco because I would like to see if I believe this individual wants to be found and hoped I might catch the killer's scent in a public place such as this. As to the choice of attire, I thought later this evening, that you might like to exercise with me."

The waiter returned with a slab of meat that looked barely warmed and was definitely bleeding. He placed it in front of Hannibal, obviously recognizing him from the way he set down the plate and quickly stepped back as if Hannibal would either bite off his hand, or ask him to remove the entrée.

Hannibal sliced the piece of beef and as the blood seeped from the flesh, Hannibal, feeling particularly carnivorous, smiled.

"Perfetto, Signore. Grazie, mille grazie."

The waiter bowed, relieved at the approval, but equally relieved to be leaving the table.

Clarice waited for him to be out of earshot, then tapped on the table, redirecting her husband's attention. The moment he looked up, she drilled, "Exercise? What's going on? What are you thinking?"

Hannibal sliced a morsel of the beef, and paused before bringing it to his lips.

"The scent of the vehicle is quite distinct, though I doubt the perpetrator would drive it about openly, as it would be recognizable to the police department based on the video taped evidence. I believe the individuals to be locals therefore it is in the realm of possibility that in our travels, we might come across said vehicle. If not the vehicle, perhaps the man himself."

Pleased with his evaluation, playfully tore the steak from the fork, chewing aggressively.

No longer interested in her food, Clarice pushed her plate aside.

"Why are you assuming they're local? Some killers have been known to travel hundreds of miles to dispose of a body."

Hannibal continued to eat as he explained his reasoning, "That body part was not disposed of, Clarice. That head was a request for intervention. It was a religious offering and though it is common knowledge that we live in this area, our exact location is not public knowledge beyond the confines of this community. For someone to visit our compound, upon seeing the level of security and thus knowing their activities would be recorded they would have to be confident of their escape and very familiar with the area. Our property is fairly remote. Few would know how to access it. Fewer would have the confidence to access it and guarantee their safety upon escape."

"You think you can locate the truck by scent?"

"Yes, as I said the aroma of the engine and exhaust are quite specific, but if I cannot locate the truck, I may be able to isolate the scent of the owner. I believe this person wishes to be found."

Hannibal sliced some of his steak and placed in on Clarice's plate. Curious, she stabbed the beef with her fork and questioned, "Why would you believe that?"

"The cologne he has chosen. It is very distinct and not something most men in this area have the purchasing power to obtain."

Enjoying the meat, she chewed actively as she asked, "What cologne?"

Lifting a bowl filled with sautéed baby Portobello mushrooms and onions, scooping a heap beside the steak he had previously plated for Clarice, he answered, "I detected the scent of Clive Christian No.1."

Now enjoying the mushrooms, Clarice continued as she covered her mouth, now filled with food, "Is it hard to find?"

Now satisfied that Clarice had enough protein on her plate, Hannibal attended his dinner. The pair spoke casually as they enjoyed their meal as the sun set and the stars rode low in the sky.

"Not as such, though it is extremely expensive at just over two thousand dollars per bottle. This is a person of means, sub-standard transportation aside."

"Why would a guy who can buy a bottle of two thousand dollar bottle of cologne drive a shitbox truck like that?"

Hannibal paused as he highlighted, "Indeed. Why would he, Clarice?"

Realization dawning, Clarice pounded the table, causing the plates, and cutlery to jump at the contact.

"Sonofabitch! Because that's not his damned truck, is it."

Smiling as his wife's interest piqued, Hannibal answered.

"I suspect the vehicle belonged to the ranch hand our killer decapitated."

Having followed his previous thought processes with ease, Clarice stopped eating for a moment as she challenged, "How do you know the dead guy was a ranch hand?"

Thrilled to have her undivided attention, Hannibal illustrated, "He had the distinct scent of sheep and a faint note of manure on his flesh. The deceased wouldn't have been the rancher as unless he has a phobia about dentists."

She was interested. Hannibal's assessments often jumped light years ahead of investigations, not only because of his unusual mind, but also because he constantly processed a variety of stimuli that most people aren't able to access.

"Okay, H…the sheep I get, but what's the dentist have to do with all this."

Hannibal smiled, entertained by his wife's escalating curiosity.

I have your attention, yes, but will you be curious enough to join me, I wonder?

"Tooth decay and periodontal disease have very distinct aromas, all present with the scent of fleece and the stench of decay. I would assume the rancher to have the fiscal means to address that painful a problem. A hired hand would not have the same monetary resources. That might mean any dental identification would be problematic as this individual most assuredly did not make frequent visits for oral care."

Clarice stopped eating and stared at her husband with a combination of shock and awe.

"You could smell all that from the freaking head, You're kidding me, right?"

Guiding her to the question he wished to ask, he outlined, "Not at all, why, does that surprise you? It isn't any different from being able to detect notes floral notes or spicy undertones in a wine's bouquet. You've become quite adept. You have an exceptional palate."

"I know, no offense because you know how much I love you, but it still freaks me out a bit, H. I'm not gonna lie to you."

Hannibal set down his knife and fork, reached across the table and took both his wife's hands in his.

"I understand, Clarice, no offense taken. That is part of the reason for our outing tonight, however."

"What is, H?"

Hannibal squeezed her hands and winked playfully.

"Care to do a little hunting with me, Clarice?"

Until the next chapter my friends!

LH