Bram Stoker's HANNIBAL

Chapter 51: Tossing and Rocking Without Any Rest

Chapter 51: Tossing and Rocking Without Any Rest

"We got a lead," Zeller said, accepting his cup of tea. "But it's... not a lot to work with."

"Yeah?" Will was looking at a photograph of the Sylvestri crime scene while Price fixed them a cuppa in Will's rudimentary kitchen.

"There's a lady that lives under the bridge right near Sylvestri's building. A real charmer, I can assure you–"

"Looks like you're not long for bachelorhood, Zed," Jimmy teased, handing Will his cup with the requisite sugars.

"Oh, come off it."

"And what did the... bridge lady say?" Will prompted as Price returned to stand by the table with them. Three photos of the body in the surgery theater lay on its rustic wooden surface.

"She said she saw a well-dressed gentleman talking to Sylvestri, and then they walked off together," Zeller reported. "I mean, take it with a grain of salt. Ever since Saucy Jack, everybody sees monsters in top hats."

Will sipped his tea; it wasn't sweet enough, but he ignored his tongue's disapproval. "I... feel like it was a chance encounter. Something overheard when Jimmy was questioning him on the stoop prompted the connection. Whoever it was – w-whether it was this mystery gentleman or-or not – heard something in that conversation that... let them put two-and-two together. The killer somehow knew what he'd done."

"Far as we know, nobody knew exactly what this bloke was up to," Zeller said, glancing over Will's shoulder at the photograph. "If the killer wasn't an accomplice and was a stranger, like you said, how would he have known to dole out such..."

"Poetic justice?" Price suggested.

"Yeah, that," Zeller confirmed, pointing his way. "I mean, unless this killer can, I don't know – read minds or something."

They shared a chuckle. But as the echoes of it died away, Will realized that was exactly what it was like. It was as if the killer had looked into Sylvestri's soul for inspiration.

"Whoever did this was going to kill... someone that night," Will mused. "And he happened to find Sylvestri. If it wasn't him, it would have been someone else. But-but not displayed in the same way. I still think this was... an opportunity seized. More about the killer and-and the audience then Sylvestri himself."

Price groaned. "That doesn't give us anything to go on!"

"That's what I see," Will insisted. "If you don't like it, then find somebody else."

Zeller scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "Here we go. Figured it was only a matter of time before you threaten to quit."

"Oh, shut up, Zed," Price retorted. "You know there isn't anybody else."

Will gulped down his not-sweet-enough tea and set the cup in the saucer with a clatter as Zeller gathered up the photos. "How are things going with the DEMETER?"

"Ugh," Price groaned, rubbing his forehead. "Don't remind me."

Zeller slipped the photos back into an envelope. "The Russian Consulate has shut down any inquiries. They've definitely got their claws out."

"I still don't understand why," Will mused. "Wouldn't they want to know who killed Russian citizens?"

"You'd think," Price quipped. "And yet..."

"Certain influences from higher up in Scotland Yard have "gently suggested" we stop investigating." Zeller finished his tea and Price automatically picked up his empty cup and Will's, taking them to the sink, a father's instinct to keep breakable things away from grabbing toddler hands.