“Right this second it does.”
“Let it cook a minute.”
“Dr. Lecter told me where to find Klaus,” Starling said.
“Yes, he did.”
“Dr. Lecter told me his patient, Benjamin Raspail, claimed to have killed Klaus. But Lecter said he believed it was probably accidental erotic asphyxia.”
“That’s what he said.”
“You think maybe Dr. Lecter knows exactly how Klaus died, and it wasn’t Raspail, and it wasn’t erotic asphyxia?”
“Klaus had a bug in his throat, the girl in West Virginia had a bug in her throat. I never saw that anywhere else. Never read about it, never heard of it. What do you think?”
“I think you told me to pack for two days. You want me to ask Dr. Lecter, don’t you.”
“You’re the one he talks to, Starling.” Crawford looked so sad when he said, “I figure you’re game.”
She nodded.
“We’ll talk on the way to the asylum,” he said.
CHAPTER 19
“Dr. Lecter had a big psychiatric practice for years before we caught him for the murders,” Crawford said. “He did a slew of psychiatric evaluations for the Maryland and Virginia courts and some others up and down the East Coast. He’s seen a lot of the criminally insane. Who knows what he turned loose, just for fun? That’s one way he could know. Also, he knew Raspail socially and Raspail told him things in therapy. Maybe Raspail told him who killed Klaus.”
Crawford and Starling faced each other in swivel chairs in the back of the surveillance van, whizzing north on U.S. 95 toward Baltimore, thirty-seven miles away. Jeff, in the driver’s compartment, clearly had orders to step on it.
“Lecter offered to help, and I had no part of him. I’ve had his help before. He gave us nothing useful and he helped Will Graham get a knife jammed through his face last time. For fun.
“But a bug in Klaus’ throat, a bug in the girl’s throat in West Virginia, I can’t ignore that. Alan Bloom’s never heard of that specific act before, and neither have I. Have you ever run across it before, S
tarling? You’ve read the literature since I have.”
“Never. Inserting other objects, yes, but never an insect.”
“Two things to begin with. First, we go on the premise that Dr. Lecter really knows something concrete. Second, we remember that Lecter looks only for the fun. Never forget fun. He has to want Buffalo Bill caught while Catherine Martin’s still alive. All the fun and benefits have to lie in that direction. We’ve got nothing to threaten him with—he’s lost his commode seat and his books already. That cleans him out.”
“What would happen if we just told him the situation and offered him something—a cell with a view. That’s what he asked for when he offered to help.”
“He offered to help, Starling. He didn’t offer to snitch. Snitching wouldn’t give him enough of a chance to show off. You’re doubtful. You favor the truth. Listen, Lecter’s in no hurry. He’s followed this like it was baseball. We ask him to snitch, he’ll wait. He won’t do it right away.”
“Even for a reward? Something he won’t get if Catherine Martin dies?”
“Say we tell him we know he’s got information and we want him to snitch. He’d have the most fun by waiting and acting like he’s trying to remember week after week, getting Senator Martin’s hopes up and letting Catherine die, and then tormenting the next mother and the next, getting their hopes up, always just about to remember—that would be better than having a view. It’s the kind of thing he lives on. It’s his nourishment.
“I’m not sure you get wiser as you get older, Starling, but you do learn to dodge a certain amount of hell. We can dodge some right there.”
“So Dr. Lecter has to think we’re coming to him strictly for theory and insight,” Starling said.
“Correct.”
“Why did you tell me? Why didn’t you just send me in to ask him that way?”
“I level with you. You’ll do the same when you have a command. Nothing else works for long.”
“So there’s no mention of the insect in Klaus’ throat, no connection between Klaus and Buffalo Bill.”