Chapter Text
Will stared at the wide brimmed fedora that sat on his desk.
It matched the aesthetic of the job, Beverly had told him, holding back laughter as she did. She had bought it as a joke, but Will had the feeling she actually wanted him to wear it at least once. She probably thought he should start smoking and wearing a long coat, just for the aesthetics of the job.
Will had considered telling her she would look better than him in that kind of clothing, but he knew she wouldn’t find it all that funny. She dressed better for the job than he did, and made a better impression on people. Will probably should do something to endear himself to clients, but he didn’t feel any urge to make people like him. He just wanted to pay the bills and go home at the end of the day.
Will sighed and stood up from his desk.
There was a mirror in the office, and he took the hat over to it. He tried it on, giving it that characteristic tilt that always made the movie detectives look debonair, just to see if he could pull it off.
He couldn’t. At least not while he was wearing a baggy flannel and jeans. He might look more like the sexy men from the silver screen if he wore a crisp white shirt and a loose tie, polished black shoes and that same long coat he had already considered. To really complete the look, he would have to tame his wild curls and slick back his hair, maybe leave one curl over his forehead for that soft, handsome look.
The door opened, but Will was sure it was only Beverly. It was just about ten in the morning, and they never got clients unless it was first or last thing. Morning and night were their business hours, as far as he was concerned. He didn’t say anything as he considered himself in the mirror.
“I believe a slight change in wardrobe would suit that hat quite well.”
Will shifted so he could see the man in the mirror behind him. It hadn’t been Beverly after all, but Will didn’t jump. He was rarely startled, even when caught off guard.
The man was tall and put together, wearing a tailored three piece suit. He looked high class and expectant. Will guessed he would be the kind of person to not even bat an eye at the rates for the work, but would be demanding results far faster than Will could come up with them.
Will turned, swiping the hat from his head and tossing it back onto the desk without ceremony.
“Not my style,” he replied, looking at the man head on, now, “how can I help you?”
The man studied him in return, letting a silence grow between them for a moment. Will had nothing wrong with silence. It encouraged people to talk more, and he could get information from them that way. He was good at using silence to his advantage.
“Are you Will Graham?” the man asked.
Will folded his arms across his chest, sure the man was casting judgment. That was how most people like him thought. They looked at him and turned up their noses. He was used to it, but people in their circles wouldn’t do the work he specialized in. They were forced to come to him against their better tastes. It was amusing and annoying at the same time.
“Yes,” Will told him, not about to elaborate. He wasn’t in the patronizing mood. He never was, and Beverly would probably have told him they would get more clients if he bothered to stoop that low once in a while.
But he didn’t.
The man smiled, seeming almost amused by Will’s abrasiveness. That irked Will further, but he tamped it down. Despite what he wanted, he really did need more jobs in order to fund his casual drinking habits, as well as his casual eating habits.
“I have a case I would like you to attempt. I have heard good things of your establishment.”
Will didn’t smile, though he understood the compliment was meant to warm him up. He just stepped up to the desk and retrieved his notepad and pen. He turned back and leaned against the desk, his head down as he flipped to a fresh page and touched the tip of the pen to his tongue.
“Alright. Give me all the details you have. Try to make it cohesive and coherent if you can. If not, stick to the salient points and I’ll fill in the blanks later.”
If the man was annoyed by Will’s manners, he made no obvious indication of it. He did shift his weight, as if he had expected Will to offer him a seat, but he didn’t say as much. Will felt a dark satisfaction at this minor inconvenience to the man, despite not even knowing if the man was worth being rude to at this point. It wasn’t as if he had done anything to earn this treatment.
Other than catching Will in the office instead of Beverly.
After a brief pause, the man began.
All things told, the man was concise and intelligent. He gave Will the story, mentioning everything that he thought could be conceivably significant. Will began to believe he actually knew what he was doing, which was good for them both. It meant his expectations would be more realistic for Will’s work process, though likely not entirely accurate. He would still want results faster than Will could get them, and would probably be in the office every day to see what Will could tell him. That would get annoying.
But for the moment, Will was satisfied the case was not only something he could do, but was interesting enough to engage him.
The man was a psychiatrist, making him hedge around some details that bordered the line of doctor patient confidentiality. Apparently, one of his patients had mentioned a friend who might be responsible for a murder. He would have offered his information to the authorities, but he didn’t want to put his patient under such legal scrutiny. Furthermore, he couldn’t be entirely sure the man was truly the perpetrator, and could potentially waste the police’s time if he sent them after a man who he didn’t know and couldn’t name.
Will’s job was to find out who the man was and decide if he really should be a person of interest. If so, he would send in an anonymous tip with any information Will dug up, and let the police deal with the rest. The good doctor would pay Will when the man was either identified as a suspect or negated as one.
The man came to the end of his tale, and Will flipped the notepad shut with a nod.
“How would you like me to contact you with updates?” he asked, general protocol rather than any actual idea he would need the man’s number. He expected the man to reach out to him before he ever felt the need to do the reverse.
The man extended a business card, and Will almost scoffed. He should have known. Most people didn’t have their own business cards, but it made sense this guy did. The office had business cards, of course, but they had the business name before Will’s or Beverly’s. This card had the doctor’s name front and center. The focal point of the small piece of paper.
And the Doctor’s name was Hannibal Lecter. His office was also in Baltimore, not far from the building Will rented out for this agency, though in a significantly more upscale area. Of course. Will wouldn’t have expected anything less.
Will used a paperclip to attach the card to a page of the notepad and stuck the pen behind his ear. The man was standing there, as if expecting something more from Will. Will almost considered telling the man politely that he had done well and could go have a snack, he was dismissed. The thought brought a smile to Will’s lips, but he hid it behind his hand as he schooled his expression.
“I’ll get right to work on this, sir,” Will said, putting the notepad back on the desk and staring at the loud pattern of the doctor’s tie, “I’ll let you know the moment I have anything solid to go off of, and you can let me know if you remember anything I should know.”
The sun was shining in through the window by the door, the beams made into something solid by dust hanging in the air. Will turned to watch the dust dance in the air, thinking about this new case, until it was obscured by the shape of the man moving in front of him.
Will looked up, but only made it to the doctor’s chin. He had moved closer, only a few feet in front of Will now. He was smiling gently, and Will was frozen when the man’s hand raised towards his face.
The doctor plucked the pen from behind Will’s ear and turned it over in his fingers, looking at it as if it had done something mildly amusing. He was very close to Will, now, and Will found himself holding his breath despite himself.
“I’d like to take you to dinner,” the doctor said, stunning Will into further silence, “but perhaps we should wait until you have found the man I am looking for.”
He put the pen into the jar of writing utensils on the desk, the action bringing him even closer, their chests nearly touching. His mild smile never wavered, and Will was surprised at his own inclination to lean into the warmth he could feel from the man.
That wasn’t a good thing. Will didn’t get involved with people. Much less clients.
“I’ll see you very soon, Will,” the doctor said, and finally walked out the door.
Will was left to brood over that, alone in the office, until Beverly appeared an hour later. She found Will sitting at the desk with his fingers steepled, deep in thought, though not on the topic he really should have been mulling over. He had a case, after all, and should have been focused on solving it quickly for their new client.