the paper yesterday, God dropped a church roof on thirty-four of His worshipers inTexasWednesday night - just as they were groveling through a hymn. Don't you think that felt good?
Thirty-four . He'd let you haveHobbs.
He got 160 Filipinos in one plane crash last week - He'll let you have measlyHobbs. He won't begrudge you one measly murder. Two now. That's all right.
Watch the papers. God always stays ahead.
Best,
HannibalLecter, M.D.
Graham knew that Lecter was dead wrong aboutHobbs, but for a half-second he wondered if Lecter might be a little bit right in the case of Freddy Lounds. The enemy inside Graham agreed with any accusation.
He had put his hand on Freddy's shoulder in the Tattler photograph to establish that he really had told Freddy those insulting things about the Dragon. Or had he wanted to put Freddy at risk, just a little? He wondered.
The certain knowledge that he would not knowingly miss a chance at the Dragon reprieved him.
"I'm just about worn out with you crazy sons of bitches," Graham said aloud.
He wanted a break. He called Molly, but no one answered the telephone at Willy's grandparents' house. "Probably out in their damned motorhome," he mumbled.
He went out for coffee, partly to assure himself that he was not hiding in the jury room.
In the window of a jewelry store he saw a delicate antique gold bracelet. It cost him most of his paycheck. He had it wrapped and stamped for mailing. Only when he was sure he was alone at the mail drop did he address it to Molly inOregon. Graham did not realize, as Molly did, that he gave presents when he was angry.
He didn't want to go back to his jury room and work, but he had to. The thought of Valerie Leeds spurred him.
I'm sorry I can't come to the phone nght now, Valerie Leeds had said.
He wished that he had known her. He wished... Useless, childish thought.
Graham was tired, selfish, resentful, fatigued to a child-minded state in which his standards of measurement were the first ones he learned; where the direction "north" was Highway 61 and "six feet" was forever the length of his father.
He made himself settle down to the minutely detailed victim profile he was putting together from a fan of reports and his own observations.
Affluence. That was one parallel. Both families were affluent. Odd that Valerie Leeds saved money on panty hose.
Graham wondered if she had been a poor child. He thought so; her own children were a little too well turned out.
Graham had been a poor child, following his father from the boatyards inBiloxiandGreenvilleto the lake boats onErie. Always the new boy at school, always the stranger. He had a half-buried grudge against the rich.
Valerie Leeds might have been a poor child. He was tempted to watch his film of her again. He could do it in the courtroom. No. The Leedses were not his immediate problem. He knew the Leedses. He did not know the Jacobis.
His lack of intimate knowledge about the Jacobis plagued him. The house fire inDetroithad taken everything - family albums, probably diaries too.
Graham tried to know them through the objects they wanted, bought and used. That was all he had.
The Jacobi probate file was three inches thick, and a lot of it was lists of possessions - a new household outfitted since the move toBirmingham. Look at all this skit. It was all insured, listed with serial numbers as the insurance companies required. Trust a man who has been burned out to buy plenty of insurance for the next time.
The attorney, Byron Metcalf, had sent him carbons instead of Xerox copies of the insurance declarations. The carbons were fuzzy and hard to read.
Jacobi had a ski boat,Leedshad a ski boat. Jacobi had a three-wheeler,Leedshad a trail bike. Graham licked his thumb and turned the page.
The fourth item on the second page was a Chinon Pacific movie projector.
Graham stopped. How had he missed it? He had looked through every crate on every pallet in theBirminghamwarehouse, alert for anything that would give him an intimate view of the Jacobis.
Where was the projector? He could cross-check this insurance declaration against the inventory Byron Metcalf had prepared as executor when he stored the Jacobis' things. The items had been checked off by the warehouse supervisor who signed the storage contract.
It took fifteen minutes to go down the list of stored items. No projector, no camera, no film.
Graham leaned back in his chair and stared at the Jacobis smiling from the picture propped