Chapter 8 Chapter VII

"Your friend Miggs is dead," Crawford said. "Starling, have you told me everything?" Crawford looked tired, but he was still very sensitive to signals. As sensitive as the owl's dish-like jaws were to signals, and as unkind as usual. "How did you die?" She felt dazed and didn't know what to do. "Swallowed his own tongue before dawn. Chilton thinks Lecter advised him to do it. The orderly heard Lecter whispering to Miggs the night before. Lecter to Miggs He talked to Miggs for a while, but the orderly couldn't hear what Lecter said. Miggs barked for a while, then stopped. Starling, are you talking about everything? Did I say that?" "Yes, sir. Everything in my memo is in the report, almost word for word."

"Chilton called to reprimand you..." Crawford waited, looking rather pleased that she didn't ask why. "I told him I thought you were behaving in a satisfactory way. Chilton is trying to keep people from doing civil rights investigations." "Will you come to investigate?" "Of course, if Miggs's family wants to do it. The civil rights division will probably investigate 8,000 cases this year, and they'll be happy to add another Miggs." Crawford said, staring at her carefully, " Are you OK?" "I don't know how to look at it."

"You don't have to think about it in particular. Lecter is just doing it for fun, and he knows they're not going to take him seriously, so why not have a joke? Chilton put his book and the toilet The seat ring was off for a while, that's all: and he didn't have any jelly to eat." Crawford crossed his fingers on his belly and compared his two thumbs. "Did Lecter ask you about me?" "He asked if you were busy and I said yes." "That's all? Did you omit some personal things because I don't want to see them?" "No. He said you were an ascetic, but I put that in."

"Yes, you did. Nothing else?" "Nothing. I didn't omit anything. You don't think he's talking to me because I'm trading gossip." "I don't." "I don't know anything personal about you, and if I did I wouldn't talk about it. If you don't believe me, let's make it clear now." "I believe. Next subject." "Are you wondering what's wrong, or—" "Starling, move on to the next topic." "Lecter's lead on Raspail's car is a dead end. It was cubed four months ago in Ninth Ditch, Arkansas, sold for recycling. Maybe I can go back and talk to He talks and he'll tell me something more."

"Have you researched the clues?" "yes." "Why do you think Raspail's car is the only one he drives?" "Because that's the only one registered, and he's single, so I guess—" "Aha, wait a minute," said Crawford, pointing with his index finger to some invisible principle in the air between them. "You guess. You guess, Starling. Watch here." Crawford said in Write the word "guess" on a standard legal pad.Several of Starling's teachers had also learned this from Crawford and used it on her; but Starling gave no indication that she had seen it before.

Crawford began to emphasize his point. "Starling, I sent you on a job that would turn you and me into a jackass if you guessed it." He leaned back, satisfied. "Raspail collects cars, you know that?" "I don't know. Are there any cars left in the estate?" "I don't know. Do you think you can try to find out?" "I can." "Where do we start?" "The executor of his estate." "A lawyer in Baltimore, Chinese, I seem to remember." Lawford said. "Everett Yoo," Starling said. "He's in the Baltimore phone book."

"Have you considered the issue of a search warrant for Raspail's car?" At times, Crawford's tone of voice reminded Starling of the omniscient caterpillar in Lewis Carroll. Starling dared not flinch too much. "Since Raspail is dead, there can be no doubts about him, the search of his car is legal as long as we obtain the permission of the executor who disposes of the estate, and the search results are in accordance with the law, as in other matters. May be used as admissible evidence." She memorized. "Exactly," said Crawford. "I'll tell you: I'll let the Baltimore bureau know where you're going. Saturday, Starling, on your own time. If there's any fruit, pick it."

As she left, Crawford refrained, trying not to look at her from behind.He picked up a thick mass of purple note paper from the wastebasket with his fingers, and unfolded it on the table.The note was about his wife, and it read in a beautiful hand: Oh, the different schools are quarreling, what fire are you looking for, to set the world on fire?Why don't you have any brains, so you don't know how to look for it. Once her fever breaks out, won't it be over? Jack, I'm very sorry about Bella. Hannibal Lecter