Chapter 17
Clarice's breath caught as his lips descended to hers and she unconsciously tilted her head upward invitingly. They were both leanly built and shared a wiry strength, but he had a few inches on her in height. One of his hands had risen and gently rested on her waist. Without her guidance, her arms followed suit and chose to settle on his shoulders.
Closer.
Closer.
But then he stopped short of contact.
A sigh of frustration escaped her, and she saw him inhale her essence, his eyes closing in pleasure. She took a steadying breath of her own and the scents of sandalwood and leather greeted her. She wouldn't mind being completely enveloped in that smell.
Her cerulean gaze held him captive when he re-opened his eyes.
"Why?"
"Clarice, I'm not the type of man to have regrets. But one of my few is the manner in which we had our first kiss. I took something that should only be freely given." There was genuine remorse in his voice, and Clarice took a moment to wonder at his unique code of honor, sorrow for this when he had so matter-of-factly discussed his crimes with her.
Now she smiled as she said, "Perhaps not freely given, but I promise you, mutually enjoyed." At that she splayed her fingers and held him tighter, her thumb just resting on the throbbing pulse at his neck. She felt his blood flow faster when she pulled his head down to hers and took his lips with her own. [D]
There weren't any fireworks exploding or earthquakes or volcanoes erupting or planes crashing down. They just kissed. Clarice knew the difference between movies and the real world and hadn't expected any of such movie gimmicks to happen, she knew a kiss was just a kiss. So she enjoyed it for what it was - an intimate moment with the man she had been longing for all these years. Clarice Starling, forty-three, knew she had found her one desire there and then. She'd never let him go again.
They released their hold of each other. Clarice looked at Hannibal and smiled. Hannibal returned her smile.
"Now that's really interesting, Clarice..." he said mischievously.
"Different reasons to keep you with me this time, Hannibal. Different bonds. Please, don't cut yourself loose this time?"
Hannibal saw the earnestness and sincerity in her sparkling eyes. He had involuntarily hoped for a lot lately but never expected those dreams to come true so soon. He nodded in reply.
She rested her head on his shoulder briefly and he could feel her inhale deeply. Requited love.
Clarice took a step back and took his right hand in hers.
"Let's walk around a bit more," she said. "We've got a killer to catch. Let's see what we can achieve together." [MB]
They continued their journey along the waterline until they reached Piazza Virgiliana, and took a left. Hannibal had brought her full circle, returning her to her vehicle parked near the third victim's home.
At any other moment Clarice Starling would have been angry at herself for losing her bearings. Only a rookie would be guilty of such carelessness, and the consequences were often steep. But her years of training and fieldwork with the Bureau, and her even earlier experiences of frolicking in dense West Virginian woods counted for naught. She'd been completely captivated by his tale, barely noticing the scenery, only vaguely aware they looped to a northwesterly path.
He'd laid his soul bare; it had taken her full attention.
And some part of her trusted his lead.
She grudgingly dropped his hand as they approached the building, her demeanor becoming professional. [D]
"So, Hannibal, what do you make of this third murder?" she asked, looking at the house where 17 months earlier death had sneaked in and took the life of four year old Luigi Gonzaga.
"A lot and nothing. None of my thoughts delivered the murderess into my hands. Maybe because I was looking for a murderer, yes," Hannibal answered. "I believe it would serve the cause better if we'd have a look at the premises together."
Clarice pondered. He dismissed his own thoughts as insignificant, while she knew only too well how penetrating his view was. Maybe taking a look was indeed the best idea, even when considering how many months had lapsed since the crime.
"We're quite sure the killer entered the house through the back. The front is too open and they kept a key hidden in a flower pot next to the back door. The killer probably knew this, though no evidence was found she actually used it," Clarice said as she stood and watched the back side of the house. "I was a bit foolish to knock on the door this morning and try to get access to the house. If I had, I'm sure Alessandro would have found out eventually and I told him I was sick."
"I knew about the key, I saw it when I was in the Shrine. She staked the place for some time then," Hannibal said. He didn't comment on her confession, the implications evident.
"She must have. And it's too crowded here for her to be noticed," Clarice spoke. "She's careful. She had time. And still does. And so far, there's no specific kind of family that should be especially afraid for Il Medico, any family could be next," Clarice softly said while lost in thoughts.
They strolled back to the front of the house. Nothing more could be done, not without risking Alessandro finding out she lied.
"Be quiet - not a word!" hissed Hannibal suddenly and pulled her forward, "and pretend you're about to faint!"
The door of the house opened and Hannibal's bearing suddenly changed into that of an old man, his legs wobbly and a slight case of kyphosis. Clarice immediately played along and held her right hand to her head.
"Honey! Are you alright?" he exclaimed and looked worried at her. "Is it your head again?"
Then he looked up, acted surprised when he saw the old woman coming from the house, and 'helped' Clarice walk towards the woman.
"Perdono!" he said to the woman with a thick American accent, "Mio donna... malato! Un po acqua? Per favore?"
Anguish distorted Hannibal's face. The woman responded exactly as he hoped, and she beckoned them into the house. She lead them to the back of the house and helped Clarice into a chair in the roomy kitchen. She quickly poured some water in a mug and offered it to Clarice. Remembering Hannibal's instructions, she only smiled faintly as she tried to take the mug from her.
"Mio donna... no parlare. Grazie per acqua."
"Dio!" the woman exclaimed and put her hand to her mouth in shock.
Clarice slowly drank the water. Meanwhile, she looked around the room. They had a few minutes to look around while Clarice 'revived'.
The killer, once inside through that back door, would have had an easy task getting upstairs; Clarice could see old servant stairs in the corner. No trouble getting somewhere unnoticed in this house.
Hannibal exchanged a few more sentences with the old woman, giving Clarice ample time to look around. When she felt she could stretch it no longer, she tapped on the table for their attention and smiled.
"Ah - you're well! Honey, I was so afraid!" Hannibal exclaimed and helped her to her feet. Clarice made clear she was fine now and bowed to the woman. The genuine smile in reply almost made Clarice feel sorry for the comedy they played with her.
"Grazie, grazie," Hannibal said and looked around. The old woman understood his wish to be going and beckoned them into the hallway.
Outside again, Hannibal thanked the woman once more, then she closed the door and walked off. Hannibal and Clarice went the other way, smiling and waving. [MB]
Though rare in the United States, Clarice was familiar with servant stairwells and had seen them upon occasion in historical homes especially along the East Coast. She intuitively felt that Il Medico had been aware of them in advance of her crime. Had the opportunity for stealth been the reason this child had been chosen? Somehow Clarice didn't think so. Desperately random. There was reason to this madness, they just hadn't figured it out yet.
The weight of Hannibal's gaze pulled her from her musings, and she realized she'd been lost in thought for long moments. He'd graciously allowed her time to process and she gave him an appreciative smile.
Out of sight from the home, Hannibal reached for her hand and lifted it to his lips. Such gestures belonged in another century, but standing on the cobblestone street with a cathedral bell ringing somewhere in the distance, it felt just right. Just like so many other things about this man.
She knew they'd part ways now and was equally reluctant and relieved. He wouldn't disappear again, she knew, so that was an irrational and silly fear. But she still felt it. And some other part of her needed time alone to take in the many repercussions of their pact.
With a small Cheshire grin, probably from registering her conflicting emotions, Hannibal surprised her by saying, "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For agreeing to work with me. For a lovely morning." She felt other words he left unsaid.
She mulled over the possibilities as she drove back to Milan, alone. [D]