The Silence of the Lambs - Thomas Harris [99]
“Yeah, he is.”
“Did you know he wants you to shoot against the DEA and Customs in the interservice match?”
“Nope ”
“Not the Women's. The Open. Next question: Do you know the Fourth Amendment stuff for Friday?”
“A lot of it I do.”
“Okay, what's Chimel versus California?”
“Searches in secondary schools.”
“What about school searches?”
“I don't know.”
“It's the 'immediate reach' concept. Who was Schneckloth?”
“Hell, I don't know.”
“Schneckloth versus Bustamonte.”
“Is it the reasonable expectation of privacy?”
“Boo to you. Expectation of privacy is the Katz principle. Schneckloth is consent to search. I can see we've got to jam on the books, my girl. I've got the notes.”
“Not tonight.”
“No. But tomorrow you'll wake up with your mind fertile and ignorant, and then we'll begin to plant the harvest for Friday. Starling, Brigham said--- he's not supposed to tell, so I promised--- he said you'll beat the hearing. He thinks that signifying son of a bitch Krendler won't remember you two days from now. Your grades are good, we'll knock this stuff out easy.” Mapp studied Starling's tired face. “You, did the best anybody could for that poor soul, Starling. You stuck your neck out for her and you got your butt kicked for her and you moved things along. You deserve a chance yourself. Why don't you go ahead and crash? I'm fixing to shut this down myself.”
“Ardelia. Thanks.”
And after the lights were out.
“Starling?”
“Yeah?”
“Who do you think's prettiest, Brigham or Hot Bobby Lowrance?”
“That's a hard one.”
“Brigham's got a tattoo on his shoulder, I could see it through his shirt. What does it say?”
“I wouldn't have any idea.”
“Will you let me know soon as you find out?”
“Probably not.”
“I told you about Hot Bobby's python briefs.”
“You just saw 'em through the window when he was lifting weights.”
“Did Gracie tell you that? That girl's mouth is gonna---”
Starling was asleep.
The Silence of the Lambsr
CHAPTER 45
Shortly before 3:00 A.M., Crawford, dozing beside his wife, came awake. There was a catch in Bella's breathing and she had stirred on her bed. He sat up and took her hand.
“Bella?”
She took a deep breath and let it out. Her eyes were open for the first time in days. Crawford put his face close before hers, but he didn't think she could see him.
“Bella, I love you, kid,” he said in case she could hear.
Fear brushed the walls of his chest, circling inside him like a bat in a house. Then he got hold of it.
He wanted to get something for her, anything, but he did not want her to feel him let go of her hand.
He put his ear to her chest. He heard a soft beat, a flutter, and then her heart stopped. There was nothing to hear, there was only a curious cool rushing. He didn't know if the sound was in her chest or only in his ears.
“God bless you and keep you with Him... and with your folks,” Crawford. said, words he wanted to be true.
He gathered her to him on the bed, sitting against the headboard, held her to his chest while her brain died. His chin pushed back the scarf from the remnants of her hair. He did not cry. He had done all that.
Crawford changed her into her favorite, her best bed gown and sat for a while beside the high bed, holding her hand against his cheek. It was a square, clever hand, marked with a lifetime of gardening, marked by IV needles now.
When she came in from the garden, her hands smelled like thyme.
(“Think about it like egg white on your fingers,” the girls at school had counseled Bella about sex. She and Crawford had joked about it in bed, years ago, years later, last year. Don't think about that, think about the good stuff, the pure stuff. That was the pure stuff. She wore a round hat and white gloves and going up in the elevator the first time he whistled a dramatic arrange?ment of “Begin the Beguine.” In the room she teased him that he had the cluttered pockets of a boy.)
Crawford tried going into the next room--- he