The Silence of the Palm Pilot

The corridor was about thirty yards long, with cells on both sides. Clarice Starling was aware of figures in the cells, but she tried not to look at them. The lights were on in the last cell. She moved toward the left side of the corridor to see into it as she approached, knowing her heels announced her.

Clarice Starling stopped a little distance from the bars, and as quietly as she could, cleared her throat.

"Ms. Hilton?" Her voice sounded confident enough, she thought.

Without diverting her eyes from her Lucky magazine, Paris Hilton barked a response. "Do you know my dad? Why are you here? Who are you?"

"My name is Clarice Starling. I represent the Behavioral Science section of the F.B.I. I was hoping to talk to you for a bit." Starling crouched to try to make eye contact with Hilton, but to no avail.

"What day is it? I'm bored."

"Ms. Hilton, the F.B.I. is conducting an investigation and we have a hard problem with psychological profiling. I want to ask you for your hel--"

At this moment, Hilton looked Starling in the eyes for the first time. Starling was frozen. With the one dim hallway light reflecting in Hilton's eyes, Starling couldn't decide if Hilton was analyzing every fiber if her being, or if she was thinking absolutely nothing at all. She continued, "Ms. Hilton, the fact of the matter is that there is a killer out ther--"

Ms. Hilton stood erect. Here eyes scanned the ceiling of her cell as she inhaled sharply through her nose. "That smell. You use Evyan skin cream..." Another whiff. "...and sometimes you were L'Air du Temps perfume, but not today."

Starling almost smiled. She was right. "How did you--"

"Yuck, does that mean you're poor? Gross."

Starling shifted her weight to her right foot. "Ms. Hilton, please, if you woul--"

"God, I can smell how poor you are. I'm gonna ralph. When's lunchtime? Are you here to bring me lunch? Who are you?"

Starling ground her teeth behind her pursed lips. "I represent the F.B.I. We're looking for a murderer, Ms. Hilton. The media is calling him "Buffalo Bill," because after he kills his victims, he removes a large area of their backs - he takes their hides, Ms. Hilton. For every second that goes by that we do not get any closer to catching him, it becomes more and more likely that another dead woman is going to turn up floating face down in a river by the interstate, just like the three girls we've found in the last three weeks. My superiors believe that your psychological profiling skills, Ms. Hilton, could provide us with information that will bring us closer to finding this man. Needless to say, should you provide us with information that leads to his arrest, a great deal of compensation will come your way. The F.B.I. is already willin--"

"Quid pro quo, Clarise," said Hilton.

"Excuse me?"

Hilton took two swift steps so that she was only inches from the bulletproof glass that separated her from Clarise Starling. "Quid pro quo. You give me some information about yourself, Clarise. Information that I request. You do this, and I will do what I can to help you find this, 'Buffalo Bill.'"

"Ms. Hilton, please, we have very little time and we need--"

"Precisely, Clarise. Time is a precious commodity that you and especially whoever Bill's next victim is simply do not have. The sooner you give me what I want, Clarise, the sooner I will give you what you want."

Starling glanced at her watch. It seemed to be moving faster than usual. She looked back up to Hilton, who stared into Starling without blinking. Without moving. Starling decided to play along. "Very well, Ms. Hilton. Fire away."

Hilton smiled with the corners of her mouth. "Very good, Clarise. Tell me, how many boys have you kissed?"

"Excuse me?"

"Tick-tock, tick-tock, Clarise. Answer the question."

Starling thought quickly. "I'm not sure. Fifteen, maybe sixteen."

"I see. Do you want to know how many boys I've kissed?"

"Ms. Hilton, what I'd really like to know is what you think abou--"

"OK I'll tell you: a million. And I'm not just saying 'a million.' Literally, I have kissed a million boys. One million, fifty-two thousand, three-hundred and sixty-two, to be precise."

Starling stood there, not knowing what to say next. Her next words would have to be chosen carefully if she was going to get any information from Hilton. "Ms. Hil--"

"Wanna know how many I've sucked off? Because it's probably a lot higher than you'd--"

"OK, you know what? I'm just gonna ask the cannibal down the hall what he thinks. Thanks for nothing."

As Starling turned to leave, Hilton pressed herself against the glass to keep Starling in her sight for as long as she could. "Guess what: it's more than the number of boys I've kissed! Where are you going? When's lunchtime?"