Unable to retrieve the container this way, Clarice pulled back her arm and rose. Impatiently, but knowing she would have to play by the rules, she waited for Alessandro or Chiara to appear. The container wouldn't be going anywhere, yet Clarice did not want to leave it unattended. Standing next to the altar, she waited.
Clarice couldn't see either of her colleagues from where she stood. She moved a bit to and fro, but never more than a few feet away from the altar. Suddenly something in her peripheral vision caught her attention – someone watching her.
Turn around to see or pretend not to notice? Let go or go after?
It wasn't Hannibal – she would not have spotted him.
A slight movement in the figure. He or she wasn't rising, that was good. Quickly, Clarice turned her head and took a peek.
A transient, a homeless man. He was having a look around now; perhaps to make sure nobody was approaching to chase him away. Clarice could almost feel his shyness. She lowered her head but kept her body in his direction. Watching him from her peripheral vision again, she saw he registered she had seen him. He didn't rise to leave. That was a good sign. Slowly, she raised her head again and tried to look as passive as possible. Their eyes met. A few moments of quiet consideration before the man looked away shortly. When he looked at her again, she took one step forward and looked at him expectantly. It took him some time to nod his agreement. Slowly, Clarice approached him, in spite of her initial drive to remain at the altar.
Clarice took a seat in the pew on the other side of the small aisle and faced the homeless man. His clothes were shabby, but she couldn't smell him from where she sat. A weather-worn face, the man looking much older than he probably was. Reminded her of the farmers from her youth.
"Non siete la prima persona interessata all'altare," the man said, looking not at her but at the altar.
"Mi dispiace che non parlo italiano," Clarice answered. This sentence was about the only full sentence she'd learned so far. She hadn't really tried to learn some Italian yet – this told her maybe it was time to start.
The vagabond didn't respond or react. Clarice almost wondered if he'd heard at all. Maybe he was deaf and too… absentminded to look at her. She heard footsteps next to her, a sideway glance told her it was Alessandro. Before he could speak, she subtly raised her hand, indicating to him to keep quiet. They waited.
"Era l'unica persona qui di fede. Gradico il silenzio qui," he spoke unexpectedly, still not looking at them. He turned his head then, but not to look at them. He stared at the ceiling. Clarice looked at Alessandro, who motioned her to stay put – it's okay, he mouthed.
"Ha pregato a lungo prima che andasse all'altare. Ho sete. E` andato giu` sulle sue ginocchia anche," he continued, and rose slowly. Looking at the altar, he approached it. His eyes remained fixed on the center of worship. Clarice rose after him, Alessandro didn't know what to do and looked at Clarice questioningly.
"As long as he doesn't do anything…" she said softly as she passed Alessandro to follow the fellow.
"E lei continuato a prostrare davanti all'altare," he said and indicated a spot. It had been exactly where Clarice had been a few moments ago.
He suddenly turned around and started to walk away. Alessandro looked at Clarice, not knowing what to do. Clarice quickly decided the man was too unhinged to be of use, apart from what he had already told them, and he looked like a regular visitor. If needed, they could always try to find him here again. She shook her head to Alessandro. The homeless man walked away, softly muttering while he walked.
"I think I got the gist of what he was saying," Clarice told Alessandro, "come!"
She pulled him along, not wanting to wait anymore.
"Did you hear he was talking about a woman?" he asked.
"No. He did? That's great!" she replied as they walked. "You got a pen with you?"
He frowned momentarily, but handed her a fashionable fountain pen. Carefully, Clarice held it at the end and kneeled at the altar again. She inserted the pen in the crevice and used it to work the container from the narrow opening. An intact vial, filled with what looked like blood, appeared. Clarice took a handkerchief from her bag and picked up the vial with it, careful not to smear any possible fingerprints. Her face beamed with excitement. [MB]
Clarice and Alessandro stared at the vial in silence for several heady moments.
Finally, after months of crime scene investigations, interviews and psychological analysis, months of spinning their wheels, here was a solid crack in the case.
A thrill shot through Clarice. It was entirely possible something in or on this vial would lead them directly to Il Medico. The killer had been meticulous at crime scenes, even with her first victim, and left no forensic clues. But this glass container was something else entirely. Sometimes serial killers would leave deliberate, taunting clues for the police. Tactics to feed their immense egos and demonstrate their perceived superior intelligence. But that didn't fit Il Medico's MO. Clarice's instincts told her Il Medico hadn't meant for this to be found by officials, and likely not by anyone else either.
Hannibal had spoken of ritual, citing Abraham's willingness to offer up his son to God.
Il Medico was making a sacrifice of these children, placing containers of their blood underneath cathedral altars. Like relics.
Holy objects for the faithful to draw power from.
Lifting her gaze to Alessandro's, Clarice stated, "She kills them because of her faith. She leaves their blood, their essence, for others to pray over." Her mind going to images of the gutted little bodies, peaceful faces amid overwhelming gore, Clarice's voice caught as she continued, "She thinks she is doing good."
Alessandro nodded and added, "She's memorializing them. Our relics come from martyrs, from those who gave everything for God. We honor them, because we need to remember to be like them. If Il Medico is treating these children like martyrs, she is holding them in the highest esteem." Filing his use of "we" away for later reflection, Clarice opened her mouth to respond but was interrupted by Chiara's surprised exclamation from several yards away.
The noise echoed throughout the sanctuary and Clarice visibly cringed. Chiara missed it as her attention was focused on the vial.
"Finally! Something!"
An older man, a church official, trailed behind her. Quick introductions were made, Chiara had already discussed the purpose behind their visit.
Clarice spoke, a statement but uttered with apologetic tones toward the man, "We need to seal this place up as a crime scene. There could be more evidence." Protocol would be followed, of course, though Clarice felt it would likely be a waste of time and resources. She already held the only thing the killer left behind; her gut told her so. Unfortunately for police officials and federal agents, they were not allowed to operate fully on instincts. Procedures people! Lucky for Clarice she was no longer bound by such restrictions.
Questura would require the vial to be hauled to their labs by one of their own people. Placing the vial in an evidence bag, she passed it to Chiara knowing Alessandro would want to stay here and wrap up loose ends.
He was already on the phone speaking rapid Italian, and Clarice nodded at him as she and Chiara walked passed him to deliver the bag to the Questura lab.
He reached out one hand, clasping Clarice's shoulder for a moment, "I'll come by your place later today. We can talk…about everything." Chiara perked up at the exchange, sensing drama. It annoyed Clarice that he'd even thinly hint at their relationship in front of a colleague.
Giving him a curt nod and shrugging out of his touch, she replied, "Fine," and quickly departed the building, Chiara following behind.
Back at the station, the evidence was taken to the lab for analysis and Clarice spent the next several hours online engrossed in research on martyrs and relics.
Still no word on the vial, exhausted, eyes tired and strained, she stood and stretched aching muscles. Alessandro still hadn't reported back and it was getting late in the day.
Knowing an emotionally taxing conversation was ahead of her, she decided to call it a day.
Clarice saw Alessandro entering her hotel lobby just ahead of her. Her first thought was he'd been waiting for her, but upon closer inspection he had the unaffected disposition of a person completely unaware of being observed. Just a coincidence. Good, she was ready to get this over with. Calling out to him, he paused when he saw her and they rode the elevator up together, maintaining silence until they had true privacy.
Once in her suite, Clarice kicked off her shoes and headed straight to the bar. Pouring two healthy shots of vodka, she carried the glasses to the settee where Alessandro sat stiffly, waiting.
Handing him the glass and then clinking hers to his, she stated with some irony "Cheers," and tossed hers back.
He followed suit. And then sputtered and coughed, a few tears escaping and running down his cheeks.
Clarice couldn't help it, she giggled. It was a strange sensation, laughing while her own throat still burned from the alcohol, and it set her into a coughing fit as well.
Finally recovering, the two sat staring at each other, small smiles on their faces.
Alessandro stated, "You're breaking up with me."
Shaking her head, she responded, "God, you make us sound like teenagers."
Annoyance flickering across his features, he stated, "You know what I mean."
"I do, but you need to understand what I'm saying as well. We're adults. We enjoyed each other's company, we had a nice time together. There were no promises, no commitment."
"Maybe not spoken out loud. But you welcomed me into your bed. You pursued me."
What he said was true, and she knew that before Hannibal's reappearance, she'd found herself opening to Alessandro in ways she hadn't with other men. Several nights after lovemaking, they'd fallen into intimate conversations that had lasted for hours. That had never been her style, but something about Alessandro had brought it out in her.
She had softened toward him and he would have been receptive to those signals.
Knowing she couldn't deny his accusation, that her actions very likely had implied some type of commitment, she could only look at him and be as honest as she could be.
"Alessandro, you're the very best kind of guy. But you're not gonna be my guy. I didn't think this was going to happen, really. Deeper feelings getting involved. I just thought we'd have a nice time."
She watched his nostrils flare and he blinked twice.
"Bene. You don't need to worry. There's no deeper feelings," then a pause, "we had a good time."
Knowing there was more to say between them, but at a loss, Clarice just nodded. Without thought, she reached out to him to give him a reassuring squeeze, but he rapidly shot to his feet.
"I need to be going. There's a report I need to file. Oh, you'll want to know. The lab has some results already. The blood in the vial was human, type O negative. That's all they know so far. We can't even be sure it's from Il Medico or any of her victims."
Departing rapidly, Clarice fought the urge to detain him and discuss the case further. He needed time, and she wanted to salvage some sort of relationship with him. For the case, for work, but also because she genuinely cared about him.
As she was at least an occasional insomniac, she kept files for the case on hand. They gave something for her tired mind to puzzle over, and she found sometimes she could return to sleep and then wake up with new lines of thinking.
She had many of these details memorized, but she needed to confirm.
Yes. There. The fifth victim, an infant girl, was the only one of the children to have type O negative blood.
And she hadn't been from Milan.
Completely lost in thought, personal strife forgotten, the ringing of her cell phone caused her to visibly startle.
Seeing the unknown number, she already knew it was Hannibal before his warm voice greeted her, though she still shivered at its timbre.
"What does it mean that she kills her victims in one town and then leaves relics from them in another? She's not trying to throw us off of any scent, she didn't think we'd ever find them."
"Many options come to mind. What evidence led you to this?"
"We found a vial of blood today, at one of the cathedrals in Milan, pushed deep under an altar. I know it's from her. I just know. And the blood type matches one of the victims, from Acqui Terme."
"This needs further thought and discussion, Clarice. But my call was actually of a more personal nature. I do love surprises, and I'm not asking you to spoil it, but I would like to be a polite dinner guest and bring an appropriate wine. Could you point me in the right direction?"
"Hannibal, that is a completely lovely sentiment. But I've already selected a wind and planned the meal around it. Bring yourself, that's all I need."
Quiet from him, and she found herself wondering at his facial expression in that moment. Though he'd dwelt within her for so long, in many ways he was still a stranger.
His thoughts seemed to be following the same path. "As I said, I do love surprises. All right, Clarice, I shall attempt to be gracious and follow my hostess' instructions."
Hearing departure in his tone, she stated, "Good night Hannibal."
"Good night Clarice." [D]
Authors' Note~ We need to send a very big shout out of thanks to Loving Hannibal for so kindly providing us with the Italian phrases in this chapter. You're simply marvelous! And as always, thanks to you all for reading and reviewing :o)