C H A P T E R III
15 March, 1975 Dr. Lecter's office
"Will, sit down, please," said Dr. Lecter, motioning for Will to sit in the large swivel chair across from him. Dr. Lecter sat behind another large desk, in front of a window opening from the third floor of a small office building in Baltimore. To his left there was a day lounger and a few rows of book shelves and side tables. Various medical and fiction books lay open across the tables.
"So," began Lecter, "I read through the case file last night and this morning I wrote up a quick outline for the profile, and I must say; this one is nothing like Hobbs, he is more of a Jack the Ripper."
"Well, like I told you last night, the papers have dubbed him the Chesapeake Ripper, so Jack isn't all that far."
"No, I suppose it isn't. So Will, what are your impressions?"
"Well, from the precision of the wounds and stitches, I would say that he must have some type of medical knowledge, and not the type you get from reading a few books either, he would have to have gone to a university."
"Yes, and what else?"
"He would have needed some type of motivation, such as being fired or maybe even divorced."
"Good, so I suppose that you'll be looking for mortuary workers, undertakers, doctors, and so on?"
"Those are our main suspects, but some of the other agents believe that even a nurse or medical aid could be doing this."
"I don't believe so, these stitches are from years of experience, there is only very little thread showing and only a few stitches where used."
"Okay, so it would have to be one of the more experienced professionals, what else can you tell me?"
"Well, there was one interesting thing about the newest victim, James Hubbard, though it may just be a coincidence, but I have seen an image much like the one of Mr. Hubbard on the wall."
"You mean the medieval medical drawing?"
"Yes, you've seen it?"
"Just in passing, I only remembered it just now."
"Yes, Wound Man was a graphic drawing used in many early medical books, it depicts a man that has died in a battle, protruding from his various limbs are the weapons of the age, and one of them is an arrow in his right thigh," at this Lecter stood and walked over to the bookshelf, "I believe that there is a copy of that in here," he had pulled a large black volume from the top shelf, it had some gold writing along the spine, but Will couldn't read it.
"Ah," he said, flipping to a page near the center, "here it is." The picture showed a middle aged man standing naked in the center of the page, like the doctor had said there was an arrow in his right thigh, as well as a mace embedded in his head, an ax in his shoulder and a sword punched through his abdomen.
"It looks as though more than death came to him in battle."
"Yes," agreed the doctor with a small chuckle as he turned the book back to face him, "nobody ever said that the doctors of that age had to have a good medical knowledge. Some methods invented in that time didn't carry on long, such as the flower pedals in the pocket to ward off the evil demons that caused the plague. They may have been ill educated, but the people realized all too late that the posies had no effect, positive or not."
"Yes, I know the poem."
"Probably not the original version, it was distorted over the years into a child's song."
"Yes, however doctor, I believe we're getting off topic. What else can you tell me about our historian?"
"Well, in light of the 'Wound Man' drawing, I would say that he is a highly educated person, they don't usually teach that sort of history, except for in the top classes, and even then the student would have to have looked it up himself."
"All right," said Will, rising from his seat, "if that is it, doctor Lecter, I should be getting back to check up on some of the things you've mentioned."
"Very Well, I'll call you if I think of anything."
"Why don't I give you my home number, I'm not always at the office."
After Will Graham left, Dr. Lecter walked out from his office and over to his secretary's desk. She was shuffling through the bottom drawer of her filing cabinet, her back to the doctor.
"Denise," he said, grabbing her attention immediately.
"Yes, Dr. Lecter?" she had swiveled in her chair to face him.
"My meeting finished early, so if my nine-thirty is outside, could you ask him to come in."
"Yes. Doctor." She stood and walked around her desk to the door across from the one leading to Dr. Lecter's office and stuck her head through. She said something that was muffled by the wall, but soon enough a tall man in a brown, long sleeve shirt and black pants walked past her towards the doctor.
"Mr. Raspail, nice to see you again." Said Lecter, motioning for the man to come in to his office, "you're lucky today as since my morning meeting was shorter than expected, you will have more than an hour."
"Wonderful," replied Raspail quickly. His eyes darted quickly from one shelf to the next on the bookshelves along the wall.
"Well, sit down, please."
"The couch or the chair?" asked Raspail, again in the same quick and uneasy voice.
"Whichever you would prefer," said Lecter, picking up a pad of paper and a pen from his desk. Raspail sat with his knees touching, his hands fumbled uneasily with each other and his eyes continued to dart around the room.
"Is there something the matter?" asked the doctor, now seated in the chair previously occupied by Will Graham.
"I can tell you anything, right? And you can't tell anyone?" he was stuttering a little now.
"No, my license would be revoked," this was a lie, but it seemed to satisfy his jumpy patient.
"Well, you see, it's Jame, my ex-boyfriend. He's been hanging around in front of my house, waiting for me to come home, he keeps asking me questions about Klaus, or at least he did keep asking me questions, until recently."
"Klaus, he is your current partner?" Lecter sat with a stiff look on his face, he had never thought highly of homosexuals.
"Yes or at least he was."
"What do you mean?"
"I came home one day and Klaus wasn't there, he usually is, but he wasn't, and I hadn't seen him yesterday either. Jame was standing in the kitchen; he was nude, except for an apron. He said that he had made the apron last night, and that because of the fabric that he chose, I should like him now."
"What was the fabric?"
"It was," he stopped and looked off to his right, a sick and saddened look on his face, "It was, Klaus."
"You mean Jame had killed Klaus?"
"Yes, and he had made the apron from his skin."
"What did he do with the body?" Dr. Lecter was inquiring more than most people would, but he had his own reasons.
"Apparently he had charmed Klaus in to going up to my cabin in the woods, which I had given Klaus a key to. Then he had killed him. The body is probably buried up there."
15 March, 1975 Dr. Lecter's office
"Will, sit down, please," said Dr. Lecter, motioning for Will to sit in the large swivel chair across from him. Dr. Lecter sat behind another large desk, in front of a window opening from the third floor of a small office building in Baltimore. To his left there was a day lounger and a few rows of book shelves and side tables. Various medical and fiction books lay open across the tables.
"So," began Lecter, "I read through the case file last night and this morning I wrote up a quick outline for the profile, and I must say; this one is nothing like Hobbs, he is more of a Jack the Ripper."
"Well, like I told you last night, the papers have dubbed him the Chesapeake Ripper, so Jack isn't all that far."
"No, I suppose it isn't. So Will, what are your impressions?"
"Well, from the precision of the wounds and stitches, I would say that he must have some type of medical knowledge, and not the type you get from reading a few books either, he would have to have gone to a university."
"Yes, and what else?"
"He would have needed some type of motivation, such as being fired or maybe even divorced."
"Good, so I suppose that you'll be looking for mortuary workers, undertakers, doctors, and so on?"
"Those are our main suspects, but some of the other agents believe that even a nurse or medical aid could be doing this."
"I don't believe so, these stitches are from years of experience, there is only very little thread showing and only a few stitches where used."
"Okay, so it would have to be one of the more experienced professionals, what else can you tell me?"
"Well, there was one interesting thing about the newest victim, James Hubbard, though it may just be a coincidence, but I have seen an image much like the one of Mr. Hubbard on the wall."
"You mean the medieval medical drawing?"
"Yes, you've seen it?"
"Just in passing, I only remembered it just now."
"Yes, Wound Man was a graphic drawing used in many early medical books, it depicts a man that has died in a battle, protruding from his various limbs are the weapons of the age, and one of them is an arrow in his right thigh," at this Lecter stood and walked over to the bookshelf, "I believe that there is a copy of that in here," he had pulled a large black volume from the top shelf, it had some gold writing along the spine, but Will couldn't read it.
"Ah," he said, flipping to a page near the center, "here it is." The picture showed a middle aged man standing naked in the center of the page, like the doctor had said there was an arrow in his right thigh, as well as a mace embedded in his head, an ax in his shoulder and a sword punched through his abdomen.
"It looks as though more than death came to him in battle."
"Yes," agreed the doctor with a small chuckle as he turned the book back to face him, "nobody ever said that the doctors of that age had to have a good medical knowledge. Some methods invented in that time didn't carry on long, such as the flower pedals in the pocket to ward off the evil demons that caused the plague. They may have been ill educated, but the people realized all too late that the posies had no effect, positive or not."
"Yes, I know the poem."
"Probably not the original version, it was distorted over the years into a child's song."
"Yes, however doctor, I believe we're getting off topic. What else can you tell me about our historian?"
"Well, in light of the 'Wound Man' drawing, I would say that he is a highly educated person, they don't usually teach that sort of history, except for in the top classes, and even then the student would have to have looked it up himself."
"All right," said Will, rising from his seat, "if that is it, doctor Lecter, I should be getting back to check up on some of the things you've mentioned."
"Very Well, I'll call you if I think of anything."
"Why don't I give you my home number, I'm not always at the office."
After Will Graham left, Dr. Lecter walked out from his office and over to his secretary's desk. She was shuffling through the bottom drawer of her filing cabinet, her back to the doctor.
"Denise," he said, grabbing her attention immediately.
"Yes, Dr. Lecter?" she had swiveled in her chair to face him.
"My meeting finished early, so if my nine-thirty is outside, could you ask him to come in."
"Yes. Doctor." She stood and walked around her desk to the door across from the one leading to Dr. Lecter's office and stuck her head through. She said something that was muffled by the wall, but soon enough a tall man in a brown, long sleeve shirt and black pants walked past her towards the doctor.
"Mr. Raspail, nice to see you again." Said Lecter, motioning for the man to come in to his office, "you're lucky today as since my morning meeting was shorter than expected, you will have more than an hour."
"Wonderful," replied Raspail quickly. His eyes darted quickly from one shelf to the next on the bookshelves along the wall.
"Well, sit down, please."
"The couch or the chair?" asked Raspail, again in the same quick and uneasy voice.
"Whichever you would prefer," said Lecter, picking up a pad of paper and a pen from his desk. Raspail sat with his knees touching, his hands fumbled uneasily with each other and his eyes continued to dart around the room.
"Is there something the matter?" asked the doctor, now seated in the chair previously occupied by Will Graham.
"I can tell you anything, right? And you can't tell anyone?" he was stuttering a little now.
"No, my license would be revoked," this was a lie, but it seemed to satisfy his jumpy patient.
"Well, you see, it's Jame, my ex-boyfriend. He's been hanging around in front of my house, waiting for me to come home, he keeps asking me questions about Klaus, or at least he did keep asking me questions, until recently."
"Klaus, he is your current partner?" Lecter sat with a stiff look on his face, he had never thought highly of homosexuals.
"Yes or at least he was."
"What do you mean?"
"I came home one day and Klaus wasn't there, he usually is, but he wasn't, and I hadn't seen him yesterday either. Jame was standing in the kitchen; he was nude, except for an apron. He said that he had made the apron last night, and that because of the fabric that he chose, I should like him now."
"What was the fabric?"
"It was," he stopped and looked off to his right, a sick and saddened look on his face, "It was, Klaus."
"You mean Jame had killed Klaus?"
"Yes, and he had made the apron from his skin."
"What did he do with the body?" Dr. Lecter was inquiring more than most people would, but he had his own reasons.
"Apparently he had charmed Klaus in to going up to my cabin in the woods, which I had given Klaus a key to. Then he had killed him. The body is probably buried up there."