The Silence of the Lambs - Thomas Harris [21]
Dr. Lecter's voice moved lower. Maybe he was lying on the floor, Starling thought.
“Klaus was off a Swedish boat in San Diego. Raspail was out there teaching for a summer at the conserva?tory. He went berserk over the young man. The Swede saw a good thing and jumped his boat. They bought some kind of awful camper and sylphed through the woods naked. Raspail said the young man was unfaith?ful and he strangled him.”
“Raspail told you this?”
“Oh yes, under the confidential seal of therapy ses?sions. I think it was a lie. Raspail always embellished the facts. He wanted to seem dangerous and romantic. The Swede probably died in some banal erotic asphyxia transaction. Raspail was too flabby and weak to have strangled him. Notice how closely Klaus was trimmed under the jaw? Probably to remove a high ligature mark from hanging.”
“I see.”
“Raspail's dream of happiness was ruined. He put Klaus' head in a bowling bag and came back East.”
“What did he do with the rest?”
“Buried it in the hills.”
“He showed you the head in the car?”
“Oh yes, in the course of therapy he came to feel he could tell me anything. He went out to sit with Klaus quite often and showed him the Valentines.”
“And then Raspail himself... died. Why?”
“Frankly, I got sick and tired of his whining. Best thing for him, really. Therapy wasn't going anywhere. I expect most psychiatrists have a patient or two they'd like to refer to me. I've never discussed this before, and now I'm getting bored with it.”
“And your dinner for the orchestra officials.”
“Haven't you ever had people coming over and no time to shop? You have to make do with what's in the fridge, Clarice. May I call you Clarice?”
“Yes. I think I'll just call you-”
“Dr. Lecter--- that seems most appropriate to your age and station,” he said.
“Yes.”
“How did you feel when you went into the garage?”
“Apprehensive.”
“Why?”
“Mice and insects.”
“Do you have something you use when you want to get up your nerve?” Dr. Lecter asked.
“Nothing I know of that works, except wanting what I'm after.”
“Do memories or tableaux occur to you then, whether you try for them or not?”
“Maybe. I haven't thought about it.”
“Things from your early life.”
“I'll have to watch and see.”
“How did you feel when you heard about my late neighbor, Miggs? You haven't asked me about it.”
“I was getting to it.”
“Weren't you glad when you heard?”
“No.”
“Were you sad?”
“No. Did you talk him into it?”
Dr. Lecter laughed quietly. “Are you asking me, Of?ficer Starling, if I suborned Mr. Miggs' felony suicide? Don't be silly. It has a certain pleasant symmetry, though, his swallowing that offensive tongue, don't you agree?”
“No.”
“Officer Starling, that was a lie. The first one you've told me. A triste occasion, Truman would say.”
“President Truman?”
“Never mind. Why do you think I helped you?”
“I don't know.”
“Jack Crawford likes you, doesn't he?”
“I don't know.”
"That's probably untrue. Would you like for him to like you? Tell me, do you feel an urge to please him and does it worry you? Are you wary of your urge to please him.
“Everyone wants to be liked, Dr. Lecter.”
“Not everyone. Do you think Jack Crawford wants you sexually? I'm sure he's very frustrated now. Do you think he visualizes... scenarios, transactions... fucking with you?”
“That's not a matter of curiosity to me, Dr. Lecter, and it's the sort of thing Miggs would ask.”
“Not anymore.”
“Did you suggest to him that he swallow his tongue?”
“Your interrogative case often has that proper sub?junctive in it. With your accent, it stinks of the lamp. Crawford clearly likes you and believes you competent. Surely the odd confluence of events hasn't escaped you, Clarice--- you've had Crawford's help and you've had mine. You say you don't know why Crawford helps you--- do you know why I did?”
“No, tell me.”
“Do you think it's because I like to look at you and think about eating you up--- about