Clarice went to the safe hidden behind her portrait on the wall in the study. She needed to put the papers in a safe place before she made the call. Everything was in perfect order. There were even several stacks of bills, for use in an emergency, which she put in her purse. At the bottom she found the envelope. It was of the fine cream stationery he favored, and her name was written across the top. Under it was written, "To be opened when you feel ready." She chocked back a sob, and put it in her purse as well.
Then she went to the phone.
"Federal Bureau of Investigation, how may I direct your call?"
"Violent Crimes Unit, please."
"One moment."
"Agent Black, how can I help you?"
"Dr. Hannibal Lecter is dead."
"Excuse me? You mean Hannibal the Cannibal?"
"Yes."
"I'm sorry ma'am, what is your name?"
"Clarice Starling."
Soft whistle. "The FBI agent? Well Miss Starling, we've been looking for you for eight years. Now how do you know he's dead?"
"I was with him."
"And how did he die?"
"He's been very ill."
"With all due respect ma'am, we get a lot of crank calls. How can you expect me to believe you?"
"I don't. But if you want to see for yourself, his body is at the morgue in the basement of Elkins Memorial Hospital in Vermont."
"Vermont? You mean he's been in the states?"
"For almost 2 years now."
"We'll be there by tomorrow afternoon. We'll need to ask you some questions. How'll I find you?"
"It's a small community Agent Black. Using your superior FBI techniques I'm sure you'll find me."
Click.
Special Agent Greg Black looked across the room to his partner, Special Agent Paul Clemons. "Paul, we're going to the Green Mountain State."
Next day….
In the hospital the two agents went to the reception desk and were directed down to the morgue. The attendant was an elderly man who shuffled as he led them to the sheet draped body. "Normally he would've been sent directly to the mortuary, but his missus demanded we keep him here until you folks came."
"Did you know him?" Agent Clemons asked.
"Not too good. Knew his missus though. She volunteered her at the hospital up until he fell ill and got laid up in bed. It's a sore shame, poor man. Disease just ate him up from the inside out. What do you boys want with him anyhow?" They ignored the questions and removed the sheet looking down at the face that looked a little, but not exactly like the man the FBI had been pursuing for almost 20 years. They took fingerprints to make a solid determination.
"Do you know were we can find his wife?" Agent Black asked.
"Sure do. You must have passed the house comin' into town. Big old house on the hill on the south side. Can't miss it."
They thanked him and left. The old man had been right. The large home dominated the southern view. Walking up to the front door Agent Black told his partner, "We've got to be alert. She's been with him for almost a decade. Who knows what he's done to her mind." He rang the doorbell.
The door opened and she looked at the two men. "'Bout time. Lunch is getting cold." She turned and walked back inside. They looked at each other skeptically and followed the lady into her home. She was dressed in a silk navy pantsuit and her auburn hair was coiled at the top of her head. Both had seen pictures of Starling, but neither expected the stunning vision that walked ahead of them.
At the large table in the dining room, were three place settings. "Have a seat gentleman, you must be starving."
"With all due respect, Ms. Starling, or would you prefer Mrs. Lecter?"
"You must be Agent Black. I recognized your voice. Starling is fine. And you are?" she turned to the other man.
He reached to shake her hank, "Um, Agent Clemons, ma'am."
"Pleasure to meet you, Agent."
"Ms. Starling, we did not come her for lunch, and please don't be offended if I say that we would not eat anything you prepared."
"Why, because you think it might contain human flesh?" Sadly she shook her head. "At least sit down while we talk." She chose the end chair, while the men sat at either side.
Agent Black pulled a recorder out of his inner pocket and set it on the table. "Do you have any objections to being taped?" he asked.
"Of course not. But are you going to read me my rights?"
"You are not under arrest, yet," Agent Clemons said. "We just want to get the facts straight."
"Fine, please proceed."
Black spoke into the recorder, "This is Special Agent Gregory Black and Special Agent Paul Clemons, questioning Clarice Starling. Ms. Starling has not been Mirandized and is speaking of her own free will.
"You were formally an agent with the Bureau, were you not?"
"Correct."
"And shortly after being placed on Administrative Leave you disappeared. Can you tell me about the events at Mason Verger's estate?"
"I had observed the man known as Hannibal Lecter being kidnapped. As I believe Mr. Verger wanted to harm him, that is the first place I looked. When I arrived I found Dr. Lecter strapped to a forklift and being maneuvered towards a pin containing large carnivorous swine. I attempted to take control of the situation…"
"We found John Brigham's gun at the scene with your prints on it. Is that the weapon you were using?"
"Yes. I was forced to shoot one man, and then I got two others secured on the ground. As I was freeing Dr. Lecter from his bonds, I was shot with a dart containing a powerful sedative. I blacked-out very quickly."
"Do you know what happened afterwards?"
"Um, he told me he released the pigs."
" 'He'?"
"Dr. Lecter."
"So you were with him after you woke up?"
"Yes. He apparently carried me to my car and drove me to the house where he had been staying."
"And did you attempt to escape when you woke up?"
"No."
"You mean you stayed there of your own free will?"
"Um, he sort of used a mild hypnotic drug on me."
"You were drugged?"
"For a while. We developed a rapport."
"And when did you start fucking him?"
"Agent Black, that's enough," Clemons said.
"I'm sorry, let me rephrase that. When did your relationship become intimate?"
"It was a few weeks I think. I don't have a very good recollection of time passing then."
"Because of the drugs?"
"Mostly."
"Ms. Starling, around that time Paul Krendler disappeared. You remember him don't you?"
"Yes."
"Do you have any idea what happened to him?"
Clarice chewed on her lower lip for a moment then replied, "He's dead."
"Dead how?"
"I believe a crossbow bolt to the heart."
"Did Lecter kill him?"
"Yes."
"And where is the body?"
"I don't know."
"Fine, let's move on shall we. You left the country with Lecter. Where did you go?"
"First we went to Greece, for the wedding, then traveled Eastern Europe for the honeymoon. He showed me his childhood home in Lithuania. We lived in Buenos Aires for a while, then London. We went to Spain for a short time, but I was becoming homesick for the States. That's when we came back. He didn't like it too much, but insisted we live next to the Canadian border. Vermont was really perfect. Very small and remote, the residents don't pay you any attention, and we were just 45 minutes from Montreal. There's a lot of culture up there."
"Did you kill anyone during this jaunt around the globe?"
"No, of course not."
"What about the good doctor?"
"No. That wasn't how things were. I wouldn't allow that."
"Were you afraid of him?"
"No."
"Were you afraid he would kill?"
"No," Clarice came close to a shout, but made herself relax.
"Never in the whole time you spent with him, save Mr. Krendler, did you suspect he might have murdered?"
Clarice closed her eyes. It was still there, no matter how hard she tried to forget it.