The Silence of the Lambs - Thomas Harris [77]
Krendler's bald spot was tanned and he looked fit at forty.
“Mr. Krendler, I know who you are. Hello,” Starling said. DeeJay Criminal Division congressional liaison, trouble?shooter, at least an Assistant Deputy Attorney General, Jesus God, save my bod.
“Officer Starling found something in my daughte'r's jewelry box and she put it in her brown envelope. I think we'd better see what it is, don't you?”
“Officer,” Krendler said.
“May I speak to you, Mr. Krendler?”
“Of course you can. Later.” He held out his hand.
Starling's face was hot. She knew Senator Martin was not herself, but she would never forgive Krendler for the doubt in his face. Never.
“You got it,” Starling said. She handed him the enve?lope.
Krendler looked in at the first picture and had closed the flap again when Senator Martin took the envelope out of his hands.
It was painful to watch her examine the pictures. When she finished, she went to the window and stood with her face turned up to the overcast sky, her eyes closed. She looked old in the daylight and her hand trembled when she tried to smoke.
“Senator, I---” Krendler began.
“The police searched this room, ” Senator Martin said. “I'm sure they found those pictures and had sense enough to put them back and keep their mouths shut.”
“No they did not,” Starling said. The woman was wounded but, hell. “Mrs. Martin, we need to know who this man is, you can see that. If it's the boyfriend, fine. I can find that out in five minutes. Nobody else needs to see the pictures and Catherine never needs to know.”
“I'll tend to it.” Senator Martin put the envelope in her purse, and Krendler let her do it.
“Senator, did you take the jewelry out of the rubber cabbage in the kitchen?” Starling asked.
Senator Martin's aide, Brian Gossage, stuck his head in the door. “Excuse me, Senator, they've got the termi?nal set up. We can watch them search the William Robin name at the FBI.”
“Go ahead, Senator Martin,” Krendlei said. “I'll be out in a second.”
Ruth Martin left the room without answering Star?ling's question.
Starling had a chance to look Krendler over as he was closing the bedroom door. His suit was a triumph of singleneedle tailoring and he was not armed. The shine was buffed off the bottom halfinch of his heels from walking on much deep carpet, and the edges of the heels were sharp.
He stood for a moment with his hand on the door?knob, his head down.
“That was a good search,” he said when he turned around.
Starling couldn't be had that cheap. She looked back at him.
“They turn out good rummagers at Quantico,” Kren?dler said.
“They don't turn out thieves.”
“I know that,” he said.
“Hard to tell.”
“Drop it.”
“We'll follow up on the pictures and the rubber cab?bage, right?” she said.
“Yes.”
“What's the 'William Rubin' name, Mr. Krendler?”
“Lecter says that's Buffalo Bill's name. Here's our transmission to ID section and NCIC. Look at this.” He gave her a transcript of the Lecter interview with Sena?tor Martin, blurry copy from a dotmatrix printer.
“Any thoughts?” he said when she finished reading.
“There's nothing here he'll ever have to eat,” Starling said. “He says it's a white male named Billy Rubin who had elephant ivory anthrax. You couldn't catch him in a lie here, no matter what happens.' At the worst he'd just be mistaken. I hope this is true. But he could be having fun with her. Mr. Krendler, he's perfectly capa?ble of that. Have you ever... met him?”
Krendler shook his head and snorted air from his nose.
“Dr. Lecter killed nine people we know of. He's not walking, no matter--- he could raise the dead and they wouldn't let him out. So all that's left for him is fun. That's why we were playing him---”
“I know how you were playing him. I heard Chilton's tape. I'm not saying it was wrong--- I'm saying it's over. Behavioral Science