Chapter Eight: Five and Six

Maddox West was the most delicious person I ever had the pleasure of eating. He came to me an unusually sunny day in February, 1975. He was a tall man with black hair and blue eyes. He was intelligent. Shame he was a cocky fellow. He entered my office late on that afternoon. He wore a brown suit with a brown leather briefcase. Both looked like the best money can buy.

"Dr. Lecter, its an honor to meet you!"

He shook my hand enthusiastically and sat himself down in front of my desk. Strike one: Not waiting for the host to be seated first is very rude. He took out a handout and placed it on my desk. I seated myself down and looked down at it.

"I've been assigned to your area, Doctor, and I was wondering if you can fill out the rest of the information."

I scanned the pieces of paper in front of me and read some of the questions. In your opinion, do you think the public school system is working? What is your sexual orientation? If you are not an American by birth, what do you think of our government's policy with treating immigrants? I was struck dumb at these inane questions. Maddox still sat there looking at me as if I was a giant Christmas present.

"Well, Dr. Lecter, aren't you going to fill out our forms? The Census Bureau has been wondering why we don't have you on file yet..."

"They were, were they?"

"Oh! Yes! Dr. Lecter, your one of the most influential psychiatrists in our nation! Who wouldn't want to know what goes on behind your skull?"

"I see..."

I tilted my head slightly and looked at him with narrowed eyes. My hands were behind me now and with a flick of my wrist, my harpy was in my left hand. Mr. West seemed to lose most of his confidence at this point...

"If I've offended you, Doctor, I'm deeply—."

"Your not. I can see through that facade you so easily put up, Mr. West."

He stood up abruptly and walked behind the chair as if using it as a shield. All humans can sense danger. They just need to know what it feels like and how to recognize it. Some unknown part of Maddox's brain knew what was coming. I stood up and walked to the side of my desk. The harpy gleamed in the sunlight. Maddox's blue eyes widened and his mouth opened a fraction of an inch.

"Um... Doctor? That's a–a nice knife there... Did you–um–get it at the gun show last weekend?"

His eyes flicked back and forth from mine and the knife. I looked down at it and smiled. He shuddered involuntarily.

"No. Actually I bought it some time ago. It's been very useful to me..."

I turned the harpy over and studied where the knife curved. It was slightly serrated in the middle. I stepped closer to Mr. West. He stood there motionless, out of curiosity or fright I know not.

"Mr. West," I said softly, "do you know how long it takes a man to die from blood loss?"

"I–I don't kn-know, Doctor... I've ne-never b-b-been interested in the mor-morbid."

"Hmm... I don't seem to recall the answer to that one, also."

With one swift swipe, I cut a diagonal gash in his suit. It barely grazed his skin. Small spots of blood still appeared. His eyes looked as if they were going to pop out of his head. He gasped for air and was finally able to move away from me. He toppled a table in his haste to reach the front door. I walked briskly behind him, relishing the feeling of causing so much panic. Maddox reached the door but was trembling so badly, his hands kept slipping off the knob and lock. He finally turned around and faced me like a man.

"Please, Doctor..."

That was the first time some one begged me to stop. So I killed him. In one swift swipe I had gutted him like a pig. His intestines rolled onto my floor and stained one of my best carpets. He shuddered and looking down at his own organs, collapsed on his right side. He had one more convulsion and died. I picked up the corpse and brought it down to my lab. I cut out his liver.

That night I ate it with some fava beans and a nice Chianti. I dumped his body next to the Chesapeake water plant. The papers raved about it the next day. I cleaned my floor and burned the ruined rugs. I never did get a visit from the police in that case. I thought for sure the company the foolish boy worked for knew he had come to quantify me.

The weeks passed with the papers speculating the motives of the crimes. I treated and saw more patients who needed help. I did my own research on serial killers and published my findings in one of the prominent psychiatric journals. I sat in court as an expert witness three times at the end of February. With the beginning of March, came a harsh blizzard. The snow was at least three feet deep in the streets. I had all my appointments canceled as no one could make the drive to Baltimore. During those days, I walked to the stores and bought all I needed to stay inside for a long period of time. While walking home with bags slung over my arms, I was rudely bumped into by a scruffy looking man.

"Sorry," he muttered.

I glared back at him and recognized him at once. It had been five years since I had seen that man, but I knew him instantly. It was the bow hunter. I shook my head and walked the rest of the way back home. He still lingered with me though. Was he still a poacher? Did he kill for the meat or for the rush of the hunt? I can surely give him a rush...

On the night of March 12, I believe, I walked to his home. I did not ever find out his name. I remembered where he lived. I saw lights on as I approached the house. The street itself was dark and isolated. I entered the house by the front door which was conveniently left opened. I walked slowly through all the rooms. In one room he had a collection of baseball memorabilia. In another was his office complete with a desk, computer, and mounted deer head on the wall. Several stuffed animals were perched on shelves or mounted on the wall, too. From the master bedroom, I looked down into the backyard and saw a shed. Leisurely I walked back into the cold night air.

The shed was converted in to a workshop. I could hear the hum of power tools as approached it. He had his back to me when I entered. A hammer was thrown carelessly to the side on a workbench near the door. I picked it up and advanced again. He didn't know what or who hit him. Blood splattered on the walls and tools. A creative idea came to my mind. I picked him up and tied him to the pegboard. He had his hunting gear in a corner...

He screamed when I pierced him with the first arrow. It went smoothly into his left shoulder. Using the rest of the arrows and any sharp tool I could find I recreated the Wound Man, an illustration I studied in an early medicinal book. He lost conscious about fifteen minutes after I was finished with him. I felt satisfied and with a smile walked back again to the warmth of my home.

You can imagine my surprise when finally an FBI agent came to my place of residence. It was a week after the murder when a young man knocked on my door. He was the same height as I, but much thinner. His sandy blond hair was combed back in a desperate act to look neat. His clothes however were rumbled and I could clearly see the outline of two government issued handguns under his jacket.

"Can I help you?"

"Dr. Lecter?"

"Yes."

"I'm Lead Investigator Special Agent Will Graham. I was wondering if I could talk to you for a moment?"

"Certainly. Please, come in. Let me take your coat."

We walked into the parlor. I offered him a drink, but he declined.

"No, thank you, Doctor. I was wondering if you can tell me anything about a patient you treated back in 1970 at Maryland-Misericordia Hospital. He was brought into the emergency room with an arrow wound to his left shoulder. No doubt from the news you've heard that his body was found savagely mutilated in his own shed."

"Yes, I did hear a bit of it. Ghastly killing if I may say so..."

"The networks didn't show everything. It was much worse than that."

"I bet... Well, I did treat the patient. I thought it odd that he was 'practicing' hunting in the off-season. I stitched him off and sent him on his way. That was the last I saw of him."

Graham nodded. His green eyes seemed out of focus. He looked tired and beaten down. I could see though that his mind was processing this new information.

"What do you think of the murder, Investigator?"

Graham was silent for a few moments more before his eyes cleared and he looked up.

"My opinion, do you mean, Doctor?"

I nodded.

"Well, I think the Chesapeake Ripper struck again. Somehow it fits his style. But then he didn't take any organs or anything from the victim..."

It was frightening and fascinating to watch his mind work. It was very ironic that at that moment I thought if anyone were to catch me, it would be this young man. Irony is ever the bastard child of the Fates. Special Agent Graham interested me like no other person. He was intuitive and perceptive. He could understand a killer. It scared him to death.

"What would you say if I offered you a psychological profile of the killer?"

He looked up at me. I could see now that was what his interior motive was.

"I would answer yes. You're the best there is and ever was, Doctor Lecter."

We shook hands on it. I helped him back into his old jacket at the door and patted him reassuringly on the back.

"Get some rest, Special Agent Graham. If you like I could meet with you tomorrow evening on the case. I just would like to see what the FBI is withholding from the public. Certain idiosyncracies this killer might have..."

"Of course, Doctor. I'll get you a copy of the case file we've managed to put together. Mind you, there isn't a lot of leads or evidence to suspect anyone. This guy is good."

I smiled at that and waved him off. When I closed the door, I laughed. I was working on my own case! What better hobby than to try and lead the FBI in the wrong direction! It was wonderful. I felt elated.

I felt apologetic for Graham though, thinking he was a gullible young man who would never in a thousand years catch me...

Author's Note: Well, my dear readers, I am almost done with this little project! Only a couple more chapters to go. I trust some of you have already deduced who the Good Doctor's last victims are... I hope you guys are still hanging in there. I promise I will have the next chapter up soon (probably by this weekend).