Authors: Rube and Mischa
Indeed, she WAS Clarice Marie Starling, but this thought didn't cross her worried mind, and even if it had,
it was doubtful that it would make any difference whatsoever. She was so distressed that her stomach
cramped up and she thought she saw a rash developing on her fair skin. Hannibal Lecter sure had her
world doing triple-axel turns. She wondered what he would think if he knew he was the cause of this
distress. He would probably laugh, Clarice concluded, and give her a little shake of his head.
Disapproving of her emotions running hay-wire, no doubt.
She didn't dwell much more on this as she rung Barney's doorbell a couple of times. It was chilly out,
Clarice noted, cupping her gloved hands together, blowing into them and rubbing them together. Down
the street, she could hear two people arguing, and somewhere beyond that, a door slammed. Police
sirens echoed in the distance, and then a latch was undone right in front of her.
"Barney," she said, whirling around to find him in pajama bottoms and a wife-beater t-shirt.
"Can I talk to you for a sec?"
He eyed her up and down, his expression not changing. She thought, for a moment, that he was not
going to let her in, though she couldn't imagine why he wouldn't. But, after a moment, his fingers that were
gripping the door sides relaxed, and he swung it open to let her inside.
"Sure."
It was clean, organized, but hardly looked lived in. It looked like only Barney the Orderly would live there.
My God, Clarice thought, I don't even know his last name! She couldn't ask;, it would be far too rude to ask
now. She did little turns around the corners of the room, checking everything out, and gave a silent whistle
of admiration for the thirty-six inch T.V. that stood in the far left corner, facing the couch and matching
loveseat and chairs.
"Well, Clarice, what can I do for you?"
"Barney," she said, reaching into her coat jacket for her tape recorder, "you might be able to help me by
telling me what you know about Dr. Lecter."
Barney's shoulders slunk back a little bit, but his eyes gleamed at her from his imposing height.
"I figured that you were gonna ask that. It was only a matter of time before the police began sniffing around
me for information about the Doctor."
"Do you mind?" Clarice gestured to the tape recorder. Barney shook his head. She nodded and flipped it on.
"This is Agent Clarice M. Starling, interviewing..." Shit! She was really in a mess now. She didn't know
his last name! Feigning nonchalance, she raised her eyebrows to no one in particular.
"Well, screw the formalities, let's just get down to business."
"What, I don't get my rights?"
She didn't answer, just took a seat in one of the chairs that was next to the couch where Barney sat.
"Barney, I want you to tell me everything that you know about the Lecter copycat killings."
He drew in a breath and sighed it out, folding his arms across his broad chest.
"All I know is, either Lecter or some genius fool is trying to make it look like Dr. Lecter is killing
people to make it look like he's in Florence again."
"You don't think he's in Florence?"
"Hard to say. It would be stupid of him to go back; everyone in the F.B.I. must know how much he
loved it there. Florence was his inspiration, really."
"The F.B.I. had received...or, rather, I've received a postcard from the Doctor, or the copycat, that says
some rather interesting things."
"Like what interesting things?"
Clarice shifted uncomfortably in her seat.
"Just some things about what he said to me in Baltimore."
Barney nodded his head. Clarice found it odd, but didn't pursue.
"I heard the tapes. Doctor Chilton made tapes of your conversations after the first visit. I'm sorry about your
father, by the way."
"It's okay," she said hurriedly, wanting to change the subject back to Lecter. "Barney, what did he say
about Florence to you?"
"He said a lot of things about Florence. He said that he wanted to take you there, if he ever got out. He
said that you would be a fine, modern improvement to the old statues if you just improved the quality of your
dress."
"Barney, did he ever say anything that would lead you to believe that he would go back there?"
Barney hesitated, and then, after a while, shook his head.
"If he did, it was very subtle, and I didn't notice it. After you started to come and talk with him,
mostly the only thing he spoke about was you."
Clarice tried not to seem too interested, but something about the fact that Doctor Lecter spoke
only about her, generally, to Barney snared her curiosity.
"Well, did he say anything about me in regards to...tracking me, or contacting me if he got out."
"Oh sure." Barney uncrossed and then recrossed his legs. "He said some things about you
that were rather odd, for Doctor Lecter anyway. It was almost as if he was your stalker, or
some sort of admirer. He took a fancy to you, I suppose."
"Anything specific you can remember?"
"Just a few things, really. He would talk about you as if there were two of you, a sister
or something, and he was always fond of you, at least that's what I figured. Lecter said
that if you would just learn to use your potential, then your career would be a snap, but it was
said differently than that."
"Okay..."
Barney crunched up his face, trying to remember.
"You know, Doctor Lecter was really subtle about these things, but I can tell you what
I think, if that might help."
It'll help my ego, Clarice said to herself.
"Sure. You never know."
"Well, when he was free, Lecter dated a lot of attractive women, and he talked to me about them.
Rich, bored, monotonous women who were too stupid to hold a decent conversation."
"Why was he dating them, then?"
"Because he said it made the public feel more comfortable about him. A normal psychiatrist,
out with a few gorgeous broads. The newspapers loved to report on him. It seemed that at most
every social function he went to, there was someone new on his arm."
"Except Alicia Smith?"
Barney chuckled.
"Yes, except Alicia Smith. I think he dated her the longest; eight months or so. I don't think
Lecter liked her much, though. It's just that she seemed to like him a lot, and she had nice taste.
Dr. Lecter can't stand the mundane."
"So I noticed," Clarice muttered.
"He must have really liked you, because all the other women that he came across, socially or
otherwise, he completely bashed. He had a few choice words for some of them. Tramps. Social dangers.
Archetypal whores. Stuff like that. But, when he talked about you, he seemed to relish it, and he never spat
out any cruel remarks."
"Why do you think he didn't?"
"I think he has a crush on you. In the letter, was he almost poetic? I mean, that's normal
for Lecter, but was he using all sorts of metaphors while leaving your dignity untouched?"
"Yes."
Barney nodded to himself.
"Miss Starling, I may be wrong, but I think Doctor Lecter wouldn't hurt you even if it came
downto that. I think your perfectly safe hunting him, in fact, I think that's what he expects you
to do, what he wants you to do."
"I think you may be right, Barney."
Indeed, she WAS Clarice Marie Starling, but this thought didn't cross her worried mind, and even if it had,
it was doubtful that it would make any difference whatsoever. She was so distressed that her stomach
cramped up and she thought she saw a rash developing on her fair skin. Hannibal Lecter sure had her
world doing triple-axel turns. She wondered what he would think if he knew he was the cause of this
distress. He would probably laugh, Clarice concluded, and give her a little shake of his head.
Disapproving of her emotions running hay-wire, no doubt.
She didn't dwell much more on this as she rung Barney's doorbell a couple of times. It was chilly out,
Clarice noted, cupping her gloved hands together, blowing into them and rubbing them together. Down
the street, she could hear two people arguing, and somewhere beyond that, a door slammed. Police
sirens echoed in the distance, and then a latch was undone right in front of her.
"Barney," she said, whirling around to find him in pajama bottoms and a wife-beater t-shirt.
"Can I talk to you for a sec?"
He eyed her up and down, his expression not changing. She thought, for a moment, that he was not
going to let her in, though she couldn't imagine why he wouldn't. But, after a moment, his fingers that were
gripping the door sides relaxed, and he swung it open to let her inside.
"Sure."
It was clean, organized, but hardly looked lived in. It looked like only Barney the Orderly would live there.
My God, Clarice thought, I don't even know his last name! She couldn't ask;, it would be far too rude to ask
now. She did little turns around the corners of the room, checking everything out, and gave a silent whistle
of admiration for the thirty-six inch T.V. that stood in the far left corner, facing the couch and matching
loveseat and chairs.
"Well, Clarice, what can I do for you?"
"Barney," she said, reaching into her coat jacket for her tape recorder, "you might be able to help me by
telling me what you know about Dr. Lecter."
Barney's shoulders slunk back a little bit, but his eyes gleamed at her from his imposing height.
"I figured that you were gonna ask that. It was only a matter of time before the police began sniffing around
me for information about the Doctor."
"Do you mind?" Clarice gestured to the tape recorder. Barney shook his head. She nodded and flipped it on.
"This is Agent Clarice M. Starling, interviewing..." Shit! She was really in a mess now. She didn't know
his last name! Feigning nonchalance, she raised her eyebrows to no one in particular.
"Well, screw the formalities, let's just get down to business."
"What, I don't get my rights?"
She didn't answer, just took a seat in one of the chairs that was next to the couch where Barney sat.
"Barney, I want you to tell me everything that you know about the Lecter copycat killings."
He drew in a breath and sighed it out, folding his arms across his broad chest.
"All I know is, either Lecter or some genius fool is trying to make it look like Dr. Lecter is killing
people to make it look like he's in Florence again."
"You don't think he's in Florence?"
"Hard to say. It would be stupid of him to go back; everyone in the F.B.I. must know how much he
loved it there. Florence was his inspiration, really."
"The F.B.I. had received...or, rather, I've received a postcard from the Doctor, or the copycat, that says
some rather interesting things."
"Like what interesting things?"
Clarice shifted uncomfortably in her seat.
"Just some things about what he said to me in Baltimore."
Barney nodded his head. Clarice found it odd, but didn't pursue.
"I heard the tapes. Doctor Chilton made tapes of your conversations after the first visit. I'm sorry about your
father, by the way."
"It's okay," she said hurriedly, wanting to change the subject back to Lecter. "Barney, what did he say
about Florence to you?"
"He said a lot of things about Florence. He said that he wanted to take you there, if he ever got out. He
said that you would be a fine, modern improvement to the old statues if you just improved the quality of your
dress."
"Barney, did he ever say anything that would lead you to believe that he would go back there?"
Barney hesitated, and then, after a while, shook his head.
"If he did, it was very subtle, and I didn't notice it. After you started to come and talk with him,
mostly the only thing he spoke about was you."
Clarice tried not to seem too interested, but something about the fact that Doctor Lecter spoke
only about her, generally, to Barney snared her curiosity.
"Well, did he say anything about me in regards to...tracking me, or contacting me if he got out."
"Oh sure." Barney uncrossed and then recrossed his legs. "He said some things about you
that were rather odd, for Doctor Lecter anyway. It was almost as if he was your stalker, or
some sort of admirer. He took a fancy to you, I suppose."
"Anything specific you can remember?"
"Just a few things, really. He would talk about you as if there were two of you, a sister
or something, and he was always fond of you, at least that's what I figured. Lecter said
that if you would just learn to use your potential, then your career would be a snap, but it was
said differently than that."
"Okay..."
Barney crunched up his face, trying to remember.
"You know, Doctor Lecter was really subtle about these things, but I can tell you what
I think, if that might help."
It'll help my ego, Clarice said to herself.
"Sure. You never know."
"Well, when he was free, Lecter dated a lot of attractive women, and he talked to me about them.
Rich, bored, monotonous women who were too stupid to hold a decent conversation."
"Why was he dating them, then?"
"Because he said it made the public feel more comfortable about him. A normal psychiatrist,
out with a few gorgeous broads. The newspapers loved to report on him. It seemed that at most
every social function he went to, there was someone new on his arm."
"Except Alicia Smith?"
Barney chuckled.
"Yes, except Alicia Smith. I think he dated her the longest; eight months or so. I don't think
Lecter liked her much, though. It's just that she seemed to like him a lot, and she had nice taste.
Dr. Lecter can't stand the mundane."
"So I noticed," Clarice muttered.
"He must have really liked you, because all the other women that he came across, socially or
otherwise, he completely bashed. He had a few choice words for some of them. Tramps. Social dangers.
Archetypal whores. Stuff like that. But, when he talked about you, he seemed to relish it, and he never spat
out any cruel remarks."
"Why do you think he didn't?"
"I think he has a crush on you. In the letter, was he almost poetic? I mean, that's normal
for Lecter, but was he using all sorts of metaphors while leaving your dignity untouched?"
"Yes."
Barney nodded to himself.
"Miss Starling, I may be wrong, but I think Doctor Lecter wouldn't hurt you even if it came
downto that. I think your perfectly safe hunting him, in fact, I think that's what he expects you
to do, what he wants you to do."
"I think you may be right, Barney."