Chapter 31 Chapter Thirty

Clarice Starling was sitting on the edge of the motel bed. Crawford had hung up the phone, but she was still staring at the black phone for nearly a minute.Her hair was disheveled, her FBI cadet pajamas were thrown around her body, and she tossed and turned in a short sleep.She felt like someone had kicked her in the stomach. It had been three hours since she had left Dr. Lecter, and only two hours since she and Crawford had worked out the signature on which they could go to the medical center to check the applications.In the short time that she was asleep, Dr. Frederick Chilton was making a mess of things.

Crawford was coming for her.She had to get ready, and she had to think about preparation. God punished!God punished!God punished!You have killed her, Doctor Chilton!You've killed her, brazen doctor!Lecter still knew something, and I could have had it too, and now it's all over, all over, it's all over for nothing.When Catherine Martin's floating body shows up, I'll have to tell you to go and see her, I swear I will.You took things away from me.I should really do something useful.Act now.what can i do nowWhat can I do at this moment?Get yourself cleaned up. In the bathroom there was a small paper-wrapped basket of soap, a few tubes of shampoo and lotion, and a small sewing kit, the kind of souvenir one gets in a good motel.

Stepping over the shower, Starling saw herself for a split second as she was eight years old: carrying towels, shampoo, and paper-wrapped soap to her mother, who was cleaning motel rooms.When she was eight years old, in that smelly town, there was a flock of crows flying in the wind and sand, and one of them liked to steal things from motel cleaning cars.It takes anything as long as it is bright.The crow bides its time, then rushes to the car to rummage among the many housekeeping items in it.Sometimes, in an emergency, it will poop on the clean linen during takeoff.Another of the cleaning ladies threw bleach at it; that didn't help either, except to mottle its feathers with patches of snow-white.The black and white crow keeps an eye on Clarice, waiting for her to get out of the cleaning van to take things to her mother, who is scrubbing the bathroom.Her mother, standing in the door of a motel bathroom, told Starling that Starling had to get out of there and live in Montana.Her mother put down the towel she was holding, sat down on the edge of the hotel bed and put her arms around her.Starling still dreams about the crow, still sees it like that, but doesn't have time to think why.She raised one hand, making a hissing movement, and then, as if to justify the movement, she continued to reach her forehead with that hand, and then smoothed her wet hair Swipe back.

She dressed quickly.Loose trousers, a shirt, and a thin pullover vest.The short-barreled revolver was in a thin pancake-like leather holster against her ribs; on the other side of her body was the quickloader, which hung diagonally from her belt.Her brightly colored top needs a little work.There is a split seam in the lining, the seam is frayed to the point where the quickloader is blocked.She was determined to keep herself busy, busy, until she could calm down.She got the little paper sewing kit from the hotel and roughly sewed the slit in the lining.Some detectives sew gaskets into the hem of the jacket so that the hem dangles and the clothes don't catch other things, and she has to do the same...

Crawford was knocking on the door.