chapter2

Author's Note: I've been having some formatting problems, so I think I fixed it. This is a really long part, and my term paper is due really soon, so I'm not continuing unless I get lots of reivews, good or bad.




Ardelia walked into the small jewler's shop in Madrid with the ring and the necklace wrapped seperately in a small bag. Can I help you? the elderly woman behind the counter asked. Yes. Can you tell me if this ring is from this strand? she asked, handing over the small bag. After examining them for several minutes, the jewler said I believe the gem from this ring came from this necklace. It's the same cut, and the necklace has had a segment removed. Only one is odd, if someone was making it smaller, they usually take four or six. The woman clucked her tongue. If you're selling these, reconsider dear. Truly lovely jewlery.


She walked out feeling a little lightheaded. This ring is from Clarice. This necklace is Clarice's. Given to her by Hannibal Lecter. Did she send me the ring as a warning or for reassurance? Should she keep looking? Yes. Where to start? Taxis didn't keep records. But the driver might remember. Wait. Clarice would have changed her appearance. Ardelia seriously doubted she'd get cosmetic surgery. Lecter wouldn't want his little Starling marred. The gunpowder. Clarice'd never gotten that removed. So why would she now? Ardelia went back to her hotel and found a 97ish photo of Clarice at her thirtieth birthday. You could see the weight of her career already pulling down behind her eyes. But it was the side of her face with the powder.


Do you remeber picking up this woman? Ardelia wearly asked the driver. It had taken her several hundred American dollars and five hours to track down the cabbie from that night. He squinted at the photo. Yeah, I remember her. Mapp's pulse quickened. Was she with an older man? Yeah, I think he was older. He was helping her in the car, leaning over her, pressing her neck. It was weird, they weren't tourists or anything. Dressed real nicely, and came out of the opera theatre. Did they give you an address? No, guy gave me directions as I drove. Told me to hurry. Ardelia asked. Pretty obvious. The lady was really pregnant.

Ardelia walked back to the hotel. She hoped the air would clear her head. This seemed to be her day for confusing thoughts. Jesus! The necklace from Lecter was bad enough, but if the cabbie was right, Clarice was having a baby. They were going the be f*cking parents. Little Lecters. She absurdly pictured Clarice and him pushing a baby stroller down the streets. If Lecter had kept Clarice alive this long, he must have some kind of protectiveness for her. But a child? Ardelia shook her head in disbelief. Clarice was thirty-six, Lecter must be sixty-two or sixty-three. She nearly giggled at the thought their kid wouldn't have trouble sneaking out, cause his parents would be able to hear him by then. Sobering quickly, she decided it was now even more important to find Clarice. What would Lecter do with her and a baby?


Finding out where they were was relativley easy, given Lecter's finesse in illuding any type of suspicion. But you just had to know what to look for. Canceled party RSVPs, recent extravagant purchases from stores specializing in antique furniture, the like. It sounded to Ardelia like Clarice had gone into early labor at some theatre, and Lecter wanting to get home soon as possible, called a cab. There wouldn't be time to go for their car. It had to be early, no way Lecter hadn't scheduled the birth down to the hour. Clarice would not be going out in her late eighth month. Ardelia found a family called the di Rinadlios with season tickets to just about everything. The address was in the smart-but-socialite section of a small city called Leganes. Fairly far from Madrid, but no apartment. So they stayed the night in a hotel. Ardelia suspected Lecter would want to deliver the baby himself, but if the child was born that night, hotel staff would notice an call an ambulance. So Clarice was probably still pregnant.


She'd driven out to Clarice and Lecter's supposed address two nights later. She'd been there three times, different cars each time. Thank God this trip didn't require her to go to any more parites. It was two weeks long, and she didn't want to know how Karen was occupied. Ardelia sat in her rental car, looking up at the magnificent house set back. It had a four stories, and was at least three hundred years old. Typical Lecter. Still, she had to give him credit. It really was a lovely mansion, with trees around it and situated on a hill, facing over the valley. Probably gorgeous porch on the back. Six car garage. This guy had more money the FBI knew about. Way more money. She sighed. Ardelia had been debating how to apprehend Lecter without hurting Clarice and her baby, and though she hated to admit it, whether she should. Lecter hadn't killed anyone since Krendler that they knew about, and there wasn't any reason for him to. But he was a killer, he didn't need real reasons. Clarice would have gotten away or been killed if she was there against her wil. But was she in her right mind? Had she ever been? Ardelia turned the keys in the ignition, retiring these thoughts until she had a plan. The car wouldn't start. She tried again. Something rapped on her window. Ardeluia looked up, frusturated. The terrified. For staring back at her smiling evilly, was the face of Hannibal Lecter.