The Silence of the Lambs - Thomas Harris [114]
When she pulled the string to light the closet, Star?ling was surprised at Fredrica's wardrobe. She had nice clothes, not a great many, but plenty for school, enough to get along in a fairly formal office or even a dressy retail job. A quick look inside them, and Starling saw the reason. Fredrica made her own, and made them well, the seams were bound with a serger, the facings carefully fitted. Stacks of patterns were on a shelf at the back of the closet. Most of them were Simplicity, but there were a couple of Vogues that looked hard.
She probably wore her best thing to the job inter?view. What had she worn? Starling flipped through her file. Here: last seen wearing a green outfit. Come on, officer, what the hell is a “green outfit?”
Fredrica suffered from the Achilles' heel of the bud?get wardrobe--- she was short on shoes--- and at her weight she was hard on the shoes she had. Her loafers were strained into ovals. She wore OdorEaters in her sandals. The eyelets were stretched in her running shoes.
Maybe Fredrica exercised a little--- she had some out?sized warmups.
They were made by Juno.
Catherine Martin also had some fat pants made by Juno.
Starling backed out of the closet. She sat on the foot of the bed with her arms folded and stared into the lighted closet.
Juno was a common brand, sold in a lot of places that handle outsizes, but it raised the question of clothing. Every town of any size has at least one store specializ?ing in clothes for fat people.
Did Buffalo Bill watch fat stores, select a customer and follow her?
Did he go into oversize shops in drag and look around? Every oversize shop in a city gets both transvestites and drag queens as customers.
The idea of Buffalo Bill trying to cross over sexually had just been applied to the investigation very recently, since Dr. Lecter gave Starling his theory. What about his clothes?
All of the victims must have shopped in fat stores--- Catherine Martin would wear a twelve, but the others couldn't, and Catherine must have shopped in an over?size store to buy the big Juno sweats.
Catherine Martin could wear a twelve. She was the smallest of the victims. Fredrica, the first victim, was largest. How was Buffalo Bill managing to downsize with the choice of Catherine Martin? Catherine was plenty buxom, but she wasn't that big around. Had he lost weight himself? Might he have joined a diet group lately? Kimberly Emberg was sort of inbetween, big, but with a good waist indention...
Starling had specifically avoided thinking about Kimberly Emberg, but now the memory swamped her for a second. Starling saw Kimberly on the slab in Pot?ter. Buffalo Bill hadn't cared about her waxed legs, her carefully glittered fingernails: he looked at Kimberly's flat bosom and it wasn't good enough and he took his pistol and blew a starfish in her chest.
The door to the room pushed open a few inches. Starling felt the movement in her heart before she knew what it was. A cat came in, a large tortoiseshell cat with one eye gold, the other blue. It hopped up on the bed and rubbed against her. Looking for Fredrica.
Loneliness. Big lonesome girls trying to satisfy some?body.
The police had eliminated lonelyhearts clubs early. Did Buffalo Bill have another way to take advantage of loneliness? Nothing makes us more vulnerable than loneliness except greed.
Loneliness might have permitted Buffalo Bill an opening with Fredrica, but not with Catherine. Cather?ine wasn't lonesome.
Kimberly was lonesome. Don't start this. Kimberly, obedient and limp, past rigor mortis, being rolled over on the mortician's table so Starling could fingerprint her. Stop it. Can't stop it. Kimberly lonesome, anxious to please, had Kimberly ever rolled over obediently for someone, just to feel his heart beat against her back? She wondered if Kimberly had felt whiskers grating between her shoulder blades.
Staring