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“Yes, Doctor.”

“I have a note here, or two pieces of a note, that appears to be from the man who killed those people in Atlanta and—”

“Where did you get it?”

“From Hannibal Lecter’s cell. It’s written on toilet tissue, of all things, and it has teeth marks pressed in it.”

“Can you read it to me without handling it any more?”

Straining to sound calm, Chilton read it:

My dear Dr. Lecter,

I wanted to tell you I’m delighted that you have taken an interest in me. And when I learned of your vast correspondence I thought Dare I? Of course I do. I don’t believe you’d tell them who I am, even if you knew. Besides, what particular body I currently occupy is trivia.

The important thing is what I am Becoming. I know that you alone can understand this. I have some things I’d love to show you. Someday, perhaps, if circumstances permit. I hope we can correspond . . .

“Mr. Crawford, there’s a hole torn and punched out. Then it says:

I have admired you for years and have a complete collection of your press notices. Actually, I think of them as unfair reviews. As unfair as mine. They like to sling demeaning nicknames, don’t they? The Tooth Fairy. What could be more inappropriate? It would shame me for you to see that if I didn’t know you had suffered the same distortions in the press.

Investigator Graham interests me. Odd-looking for a flatfoot, isn’t he? Not very handsome, but purposeful-looking.

You should have taught him not to meddle.

Forgive the stationery. I chose it because it will dissolve very quickly if you should have to swallow it.

“There’s a piece missing here, Mr. Crawford. I’ll read the bottom part:

If I hear from you, next time I might send you something wet. Until then I remain your

Avid Fan

Silence after Chilton finished reading. “Are you there?”

“Yes. Does Lecter know you have the note?”

“Not yet. This morning he was moved to a holding cell while his quarters were cleaned. Instead of using a proper rag, the cleaning man was pulling handfuls of toilet paper off the roll to wipe down the sink. He found the note wound up in the roll and brought it to me. They bring me anything they find hidden.”

“Where’s Lecter now?”

“Still in the holding cell.”

“Can he see his quarters at all from there.”

“Let me think. . . . No, no, he can’t.”

“Wait a second, Doctor.” Crawford put Chilton on hold. He stared at the two winking buttons on his telephone for several seconds without seeing them. Crawford, fisher of men, was watching his cork move against the current. He got Graham again.

“Will . . . a note, maybe from the Tooth Fairy, hidden in Lecter’s cell at Baltimore. Sounds like a fan letter. He wants Lecter’s approval, he’s curious about you. He’s asking questions.”

“How was Lecter supposed to answer?”

“Don’t know yet. Part’s torn out, part’s scratched out. Looks like there’s a chance of correspondence as long as Lecter’s not aware that we know. I want the note for the lab and I want to toss his cell, but it’ll be risky. If Lecter gets wise, who knows? He could warn the bastard. We need the link but we need the note too.”

Crawford told Graham where Lecter was held, how the note was found. “It’s forty miles over to Baltimore. I can’t wait for you, buddy. What do you think?”

“Ten people dead in a month—we can’t play a long mail game. I say go for it.”