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Four abrupt knocks on the hotel suite’s door stirred Hannibal from his thoughts. So far, it had been a tiresome weekend. Medical conventions always were.
Getting up, he moved to open the door to see who had interrupted his meditations. Standing before him were two adults. One, a women with high cheekbones and a pinched look about her face. The other, a man with a peculiar similarity to Will, down to the way he seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders.
“May I help you?” Hannibal smiled.
“Excuse me, Dr. Lecter. I’m detective Jo Martinez of the N.Y.P.D., and this is my M.E. Dr. Henry Morgan. We have some questions for you about one of your patients? Do you mind if we come in?” the woman asked, flashing the badge clipped to her waist.
“Please be my guest,” he said, beckoning them towards the suite. “I’m always happy to oblige men and women of the law. Would you care for a drink? The Pennisula offers an excellent selection.”
“Sorry, we’re on duty. What can you tell us about Marcus Luciano?” Jo quirked an eyebrow.
Hannibal paused a moment before responding, “I’m afraid not much, unless you have a court order, Detective Martinez. What I can tell you is that Marcus Luciano is an astute young man, studying to become a doctor. I believe at Princeton, given his family’s estate in Baltimore. He is one of my … more easy cases as it were. Is there anything else I can do to help? I have some experience in police matters, as I have helped the FBI on cases before as a profiler.”
Jo’s eyes narrowed slightly. Henry jumped in to speak before she could continue her line of questioning, “No, that won’t be necessary. Marcus is dead. We’re only looking to establish a timeline of his last few hours, and thought you might have seen him at the convention.”
Hannibal inhaled a sharp breathe, eyes fluttering in a pantomime of despair, “That is horrible to hear. Marcus and I did not interact outside of his therapy sessions for professional reasons, but he is … was a nice enough lad. I am saddened to hear of his passing.” The psychologist twisted at his cuffs, fixing them.
Jo shook her head at her partner’s rudeness, “I’m sorry for your loss, Dr. Lecter. If there’s anything else you might be able to tell us, please do.” She slid the European contact information for herself and for Henry. Hannibal accepted them with ease, and placed them delicately into his breast pocket, as to not crease the corners.
“I’m sure we’ll be in touch, Detective Martinez and Dr. Morgan. Hopefully, under much better circumstances. Now if you excuse me, I have dinner plans.”
As they walked back towards the car, Jo glanced towards Henry. “Alright, go ahead. I know you’re dying to spill, so spill.” Jo smirked, looking forward again to avoid running into anyone on the busy New York street.
“Well, Dr. Lecter obviously knows more about the circumstances of Luciano’s death than he is letting on. Between his bespoke suit and his hotel suite, he is obviously a man of taste. I would say given his manners and perceived wealth, he is of old money from the old world. His accent places him originally from somewhere east of the Czech Republic, but west of Russia. I would guess Lithuania or Belarus. His family is probably nobles from there. He’s a former surgeon, judging from his hands. He’s keeping a secret, but not one that causes him stress. If anything, it’s isolating him. I would say that he knows how Luciano died.” Henry rattled off, slightly out of breath with his hands waving about fervidly.
Jo stepped out of the way of an upset New Yorker barreling down the pathway, “I’m not even going to ask how you know all that. But what makes you think he knows how Luciano died?”
“Well, he gave us just enough information to dismiss him as a person of interest while pointing out his good standing with the FBI and his relationship to Luciano. A man like Dr. Lecter is constantly in control of his surroundings, and to do so would be no accident. He knows how Luciano died, and most likely who killed him. The real question is, who is he protecting?” Henry’s eyes glinted in the fading sunlight. He smirked. This case may be a challenge yet.
Hannibal glanced at the hotel’s door with a relaxed sigh as recording of Vivaldi’s “Il Grosso Mogul" played in the background. While he preferred live music, this particular recording from the Bucharest Symphony Orchestra was rather inspired. He took a sip of his glass of Vieux Château Certan Pomeral Bordeaux. It had paired perfectly with the roast he had made out of Marcus Luciano. The boy had been a stubborn thorn in his side for quite some time, and an utterly rude client who relied on his family’s money to forgive his social transgressions. It was luck that he had crossed paths with the boy at the conference. With a side of black beluga lentils with toasted-walnut pesto, he had topped his evening meal off with sautéed shiitake mushrooms. Just because he was on a business trip did not mean he could not partake it a little home cooking. Sure, it had proved hard acquiring the meat away from his customary tools, but a good meal was worth it.
Thinking back on the earlier events of the even, his thoughts wandered towards his surprise guests from the N.Y.P.D. He wondered what they thought of the masterpiece he had made out of Marcus. One of his finer works, he had posed the body standing up in central park. Wrapping the man’s flayed entrails around him in a double helix, he had cut the arms into serrated segments from the shoulder blades to create wings. Overall, the effect was quite striking: both a crucifix and a caduceus. He had then placed a ring of purple moneywort flowers around the base to create a frame for his art. His final touch had been to use ground-up expired food from the restaurant Luciano’s family owned to entice rodents, insects, and other scavengers to feast upon the body by dusting it across the piece. He hoped the symbolism was not lost on Detective Martinez and Dr. Morgan. They may prove this trip to New York worth it.
Detective Mike Hanson slapped a case file down onto the desk. “So get this, Marcus Luciano? Not the most well-liked person. Most of his classmates hated him. We’ve got a suspect list a mile long, Jo.”
Jo tried hiding her smirk to no avail. Mike sighed, “Henry already informed you about this, didn’t he?”
She gave her partner a pained smile – the sort that offers an apology up all on its own. “Sorry, Mike. What we know about our perp is that he has a history with both art and medicine, judging by the state of the body. He also has a pretty good knowledge of symbolism and medical history. Which coming from a victim who was a student at Princeton? Might prove hard to pin down. That school’s elitism is well known for a reason.”
Mike sat down in the chair across from Jo’s. “Well who does Henry think the killer is?”
“He thinks the killer was a doctor or professor that Marcus looked up to. Probably someone he viewed as an expert in his field.”
Taking this all in, Mike leaned back and let out a low whistle. “Well, what’s our suspect list look like?”
Jo grimaced. “Right now? We have twenty-six people of interest.”
“This is going to be a long case, isn’t it?” Mike asked while rubbing at his temples.
“I’m afraid so.”
“… Should we call the FBI in on this one?”
“Hell no. This one’s our’s.”
Henry had not planned on following Dr. Lecter. It was all happenstance, really. The man had stepped out of a taxi across the street from Abe’s Antiques. Henry had witnessed all from inside of the store, of course. Now, it was far too curious what Dr. Lecter was doing in this part of town, especially since his hotel and the medical convention were nowhere near here. And given the time of night, he highly doubted the doctor was sight-seeing. Really, the man was asking to be followed.
Hannibal had sensed the man following him the moment he turned the corner onto Norfolk Street. He did not let his annoyance show, and kept walking until he reached the door of one of the many dilapidated buildings in the area. He went inside, hoping his follower would too. Looked like his evening plans were changing.
Henry hesitated following Dr. Lecter further. The fellow doctor had entered one of the many vandalized buildings of the Lower East Side. The building was dark, probably vacant. He had a feeling that this was a very bad idea. Who knows what Dr. Lecter was doing inside, or even if he was alone. It probably wasn’t something as base as a drug deal, not with the man’s proclivities. Henry considered his options. Abraham was off with a lady friend of sort, and not in the store. He did not want to ruin another one of his son’s dates. He could always go back to the store and write a note, but Lecter could be gone by the time he got back. Summing up his courage, he went inside. What could go wrong?
The scent that filled the air spoke of old things – antiques, old papers, and worn leather. Hannibal took a quiet, but deep breathe. It would appear his trail was one Dr. Henry Morgan. He focused his eyes to where the door had just closed, onto the moonlit outline of the other doctor. The slope of the man’s shoulders suggested he was not aware of how close Hannibal was to him. That he was not alone in this part of the dark. Hannibal grinned. He slid out one of his knives from the case in his hands. He was originally planning on disposing of them tonight, pawning them off to one of the many urchins that wandered this portion of the city. They would then hopefully acquire many finger prints and commit many petty crimes. However, it looked like he would use them once more tonight. Stilling his breathe, he waited for Henry to pass him where he was hidden in the shadows of a small alcove. The man seemed to have no flashlight or phone, or surely he would be using them to look around. It seemed that Dr. Morgan’s hubris would be his downfall. Like a viper, he slithered up behind Henry, quickly immobilizing him. He stifled any screams or sounds the man might have made with his free hand.
“You know, I am not fond of stalkers, Dr. Morgan.” Hannibal said, drawing the knife in his hand up to the man’s Carotid artery. “It is quite rude to not mind one’s one business like that. What do you have to say?”
He lifted the hand covering Dr. Morgan’s mouth so the man could speak, “Well, it would appear that I have been caught. I suppose the same could be said to you though. You murdered Marcus Luciano, didn’t you?”
Hannibal blew a stray hair out of his face, and leaned in towards Henry’s ear. “You see much, Dr. Morgan.”
“Both a gift and a curse, naturally.” Henry tried with a forced laugh. It was a bit hard to muster up humor at knife-point.
“I’m going to kill you Dr. Morgan. An unfortunate turn of events, this close to another murder –“
Henry swiftly interrupted the man’s speech, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. It wouldn’t be a good idea whatsoever. I have people who would look into my death. The police would take my death personally.”
“How unbecoming of you, good Doctor. You beg for your life, but not like most do.” He looked into Henry’s eyes. “Interesting, you do not fear your death. I wonder what life has pained you to cause you to do so? I simply cannot help your death more than the wolf can help being a predator. It is this nature of things.” He pressed the knife into the man’s neck.
“Please, don’t!” Whatever Henry was going to say after that was cut off as Hannibal carefully dragged the knife horizontally across the man’s neck, moving the blood spray away from their bodies. His death would be swift. He would bleed out in minutes. Hannibal would have to move quickly to destroy any evidence. At least his suit wouldn't be ruined.
“Goodnight, Dr. Morgan.” Hannibal held onto Henry’s body as he fought for his last breath. As Henry’s movements stilled, Hannibal pondered how he was going to rid himself of this body. His thoughts, however, were interrupted when said body disappeared suddenly before his very eyes.
“Well,” Hannibal said to the now empty space that once housed one Dr. Henry Morgan. “This trip may prove more interesting than I initially thought.”